Waiting at the bus stop, Masson and Papineau, December 1 2014.
December First. The last month of the year, the first days of Advent, and the countdown to winter solstice and the day that the sun turns around and starts heading back to us.
This is how it looked this morning as we went to our studio. It's not particularly cold -- hovering just above freezing -- but we wake in darkness, and the lights are still on at 8:00 am.
Morning deliveries at the corner gas station.
The beer trucks and produce and supply trucks still have to make their morning rounds to the depanneurs and couche-tard convenience stores, and they're probably very glad we don't have snow on the ground. Nevertheless, it feels awfully dark and dreary on these mornings, and one longs to stay in bed. Right now, at noon, the sun is shining brightly and I'm finally feeling more or less awake.
While waiting for J. to do an errand on the way to our studio this morning, I sat in the car and did a quick sketch of this building, complete with its typically-Montreal wrought iron balconies, on Fabre and Mont-Royal. The Christmas trees have been set out in front of businesses, and the merchants will be decorating them soon if they haven't already. All our snow has evaporated, but that is almost certainly a temporary situation!
Last week was one of the busiest for me in recent memory, ending yesterday afternoon with the annual Advent Lessons& Carols service at the cathedral, which is pretty much a musical marathon. Advent is all about "Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme"/ "Sleepers wake, the voice is calling" -- or wake up, stay awake to watch for the coming of the bridegroom, as the parable goes. So we always sing some setting of that text. But the first piece we sang -- to a dark cathedral from the dimness of the high altar -- was this modern setting of the text of the traditional Advent Responsory, "Laetentur coeli/Rejoice, O Heavens". If this doesn't wake you up on a sleepy, dark winter day, nothing will! (Laetentur coeli, by William Mathias [1934-1992], performed by the East Carolina University Chamber Singers.)
Rejoice, O heavens, and be joyful, O earth. Give praise, O hills, for our lord shall come and show mercy to his humble people. There shall rise up in those days justice and abundance of peace. And he will show mercy to his people.
Even here it's cold, in the 30's in the a.m. on Sunday when we went to Volcano Village (in Hawaii)at 4,000 feet elevation. A lot of people don't have clothes for that kind of cold at all, or heating in their houses. It warms up in the daytime, though.
Can't say I miss real winter weather. But I love Bach!
Posted by: Hattie | December 01, 2014 at 10:19 PM
Oops. I see that is not Bach! Nice, though!
Posted by: Hattie | December 01, 2014 at 10:20 PM
Hi Beth. This post takes me back to England when I lived much more by the clock than I do now. And there was something quite delightful about the memories of getting up and off to work in the dark, so long as it wasn't too cold and foggy, or icy. Thank you for the memory trigger and the music.
Posted by: Tom | December 02, 2014 at 04:41 AM
"Laetentur coeli" -- is that from psalm 96 (starting from verse 11 - http://mechon-mamre.org/p/pt/pt2696.htm)?
Posted by: Rachel Barenblat | December 02, 2014 at 12:04 PM
Rachel, the origins I've found are: Is.49:13 Let the heavens be glad and let the earth rejoice./Let the mountains be joyful with praise,/because our Lord will come, and will show mercy to his poor. and: Ps.72:7 In your days, justice and abundance of peace shall arise.
Posted by: Beth | December 02, 2014 at 12:22 PM
I like entering the day in darkness and then returning home in late afternoon as it falls again, such a natural bracket. The city has begun its Christmas hum.
Posted by: Duchesse | December 03, 2014 at 04:58 PM