Pandemic notwithstanding, this has been one of the loveliest winters in Montreal, weatherwise, that I can remember. We've had two months of velvety snow, temperatures mostly in the 10s or 20s, lots of bright sun and blue skies, and essentially no rain. That's the crucial difference: when the weather alternates between freezing and thawing, with periods of rain, the whole city turns to ice -- and that's become normal in recent years, thanks to the changing climate. But not this year. I've been out for long brisk walks in the park every single day, which has helped save my sanity during these longest months of winter confinement, as well as keeping me in somewhat decent shape. I've also seen a lot.
The city provides two hockey rinks, so the thwack of slapshots and sticks hitting the boards is a constant rhythm, and the players somehow work out a system to rotate both older players and kids on and off the ice so that the game doesn't exceed a certain number of people, and everyone gets a chance to play. As I draw closer, I can also hear the decisive slicing of their blades: sprinting, changing direction, pivoting to a rapid stop.
To help provide recreation for people stuck in the city, the park service has also laid out meticulously groomed cross-country ski trails, and they're being used all day long, though the trails never seem crowded. It's fantastic, and gets my former-downhill-skier blood excited; if we could count on the weather in future years we'd consider investing in equipment.
But I've never seen so many people free-skating on the lake: some weekend days it looks like the whole city has shown up. I walked to the eastern side of the park on a less-crowded weekday, and stood on a high bank above the frozen surface, watching as the skaters slowly made their way up and down the serpentine lake. It was a dreamy kind of dance, seen from an aerial perch, and somehow the feeling encapsulated how I have felt much of this year: a lone observer, standing off to one side, as others, mostly younger people, engage in a life I remember but in which I don't participate. That doesn't make it less beautiful, but it's melancholy too. I gave my skates away to a young neighbor this year -- it's not the pandemic that keeps me off the ice, though those crowds don't appeal: it's being long out of practice, and the accompanying fear of breaking my wrists, which would be a disaster for me!
The dog park is another scene entirely: manic and chaotic, with a lot of individual characters, both canine and human, who I've come to recognize. At dusk it seems almost Bruegelesque, with dark shapes moving against the snow, but in the sunlight there's an ever-changing tableau of leaping and barking, sniffing and chasing, while the owners chat with each other, consult their cell phones, throw the occasional ball, or sit alone on the tops of picnic tables at the far periphery, capturing a few precious moments of solitude while their charge runs free. The purebred dogs all have their distinctive attitudes: some haughty and proud, others friendly to a fault. The well-trained dogs obey their owner's commands to heel or sit, and come when they're called. the popular huskies and malamuts look like they've just gotten off a sled run, while standard poodles arrive in expensive tailored coats, and little lap dogs in their winter booties. Meanwhile the eager mutts just get on with playing as hard as they can.
Today, in another part of the park, I heard someone whistling in the distance, as if calling a dog, but when I got closer I saw it was a man with a bag of seed or breadcrumbs, whistling to call the squirrels, and sure enough, there were dozens around him on the snow and climbing down out of the trees.
And I admit I wondered: if I still lived here when I was really elderly, or really alone, would I turn into an old lady who wanders through the park, feeding the squirrels?
Around Cleveland, there are several stores that handle used sporting equipment. When we skied, 35 years ago, I set us up at garage sales, but places like Play It Again would have been easier. The investment wasn’t too big. But yes, most years I had to jump at an opportunity. Eventually the shoes fell apart and we gave away the skis.
Posted by: Peter | February 25, 2021 at 06:25 PM
Lest anyone think I'm feeling depressed with these thoughts about old age, (any more than any of us are), I'm not. I was just pondering why country dwellers who feed the birds and the squirrels are doing something expected and normal, while city dwellers who do that in the parks are thought to be sad, pathetic, lonely and even unhinged. Why isn't it OK to have animal friends?
Posted by: Beth | February 25, 2021 at 08:13 PM
Wow! The exquisite light and color in these paintings. I don't ever remember being so moved and delighted by a painted winter scene.
Posted by: am | February 25, 2021 at 08:20 PM
Your paintings are superb - as are the descriptions. I always have a big happy smile on my face after reading your diary. Please publish - I will be your first customer!
Posted by: Ann | February 25, 2021 at 10:31 PM
This, and the skaters painting, are treasures. Winter walking hs saved my mental health too! I also notice a courtly recognition from other regular walkers, we've become an almost-community like the dog people. I've also noticed a new social ev ent, the "walking brunch" in which three or four persons, each clutching a big cup of coffee and a pastry, walk and, keeping distance, talk.
And yes, it has been an absolutely beautiful winter, and the city seems determined to step up and provide residents with those paths, traiis and impeccably-maintained bike lanes.
Posted by: Duchesse | February 26, 2021 at 06:58 AM
Those paintings are wonderful! So full of life. I love your still life paintings but these are the best!
We lived in Stockholm one winter and the city provides ice skating and lit ski trails. It gets dark around 2 PM but Swedes are out. No more ice skating for us these days either.
Posted by: Sharyn | February 26, 2021 at 08:28 AM
Well Beth I haven’t looked at your blog in a while but today’s my lucky day to be rewarded with those marvelous park paintings. I would love a cold winter walk in the park also, but alas, it is not to be.
Posted by: Judy Thompson | February 26, 2021 at 12:19 PM
I suppose skating allows people to outrun the fatally infectious droplets hanging in the air.
I'm also fascinated by the technical challenges of depicting the more distant skaters. Two or three strokes of the brush and that's it! The gap between right and wrong seems so tiny.
Posted by: Roderick Robinson | March 01, 2021 at 02:48 AM
Lovely, lively images! I spent quite a while today staring at the woven shadows of trees on snow--and when the wind kicked up, the firs made beautiful blue swarming shadows. This year has been more like my first decade in Cooperstown--big snows, lots of snow on the ground, grand icicles, wonderful frost pictures.
As for that business of growing older, I'm so pleased to find that the desire to make doesn't ebb, and that I have so many friends still being wonderfully creative in their later years.
Posted by: Marly Youmans | March 02, 2021 at 10:37 PM