Adventures in Christmas dinner

I cooked elk for Christmas day.

This is certainly not a traditional Christmas dinner, that would be turkey or glazed ham. But I am ambivalent about turkey, and the photographer is not really fond of it, unless it is hidden in a stew or stir fry of some kind. So why would I expend all that effort for that?

Christmas was very tradition driven in his family. Fish soup and then fried fish and homemade pasta on Christmas eve. Wine-and-egg-yolk soup and then roast suckling pig with roast potatoes and green salad on Christmas day. His mother started baking in late November, and produced regularly 20 to 25 different varieties of tiny cookies, poppy seed and walnut roll, and about a dozen mini Christmas breads ("stollen"). Wonderful Austro-Hungarian inspired stuff. These sweets were served for dessert and when company came over. Buying suckling pig for Christmas involved purchasing a whole pig usually with other people, and then still freezing significant amounts of meat for later occasions. And the problem is, I am just not fond of it.Far too greasy, and lacking in flavour aside from the crispy skin.

In my family, my father, the occasional hobby chef, planned and cooked the Christmas meals, and it was highly unlikely that we would be eating any dish that he'd made before. Over the years we ate deer, boar, lamb, hare, and a bunch of others I've forgotten. Once we relocated to this continent, goose and turkey were also tried. He made pâté and always tripled the amount of garlic the recipe called for. And he used to marinate game meat to within an inch of its life, making it invariably very tender but also a little dry. Dessert always played a very minor role in the meal, and was followed by a cheese, nuts and grapes course.  Dinner was long, buttons were undone!

I've cooked turkey in the past, and we've also had duck, leg of lamb, roast beef and Cornish hen. Last year I cooked Beef Wellington, and the result was pretty good. I was in a more adventurous mood this year. A few years ago I looked at Bearbrook Farm for boar meat, but the price scared me off. A small roast, six by four inches big cost $80. I bought a pheasant instead, and changed the menu.

This year I decided to check out the Elk Ranch. I spent some time looking at the website, reading the information on the meat and how to cook it. I chose a tenderloin recipe for the main meal (with yukon gold hash, the first recipe I looked at seemed the tastiest.) I did not find any prices on the website, so I was prepared to make last minute changes, but I was pleasantly surprised. While the meat was certainly more expensive than beef, it was reasonably priced, and there was a good selection of (frozen) pieces, so I was able to get the approximate weight I wanted.

This was my first real adventure cooking "serious" game. The meat definitely had a different colour and texture when handling it, and when I seared an then roasted it, the fats and juices had a distinct (unfamiliar but not unpleasant) smell. A friend would now tell me that this is likely due to the animal eating some cedar and herbs in the summer and fall. My sauce refused to thicken, but lacked nothing in flavour.  The meat was tender, moist and delicious, and the potato hash went very well with it.

We had picked out a bottle of Zenato Ripassa Valpolicella to go with this. We heard a salesperson in the liquor store refer to it as his go-to wine to recommend with game meats, and it was indeed a very good combination. To start it off I made a curried beet soup, served warm with sour cream and chives. Those winter vegetables still got a spot at the table I guess.

Now we just have to worry if Santa will stop here again next year. Elk (wapiti) is awfully close to caribou (reindeer).  We may be blacklisted!

Oh well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Cooking for Christmas eve

I have a weakness for books in general, and these days there is always at least one cookbook on my wish list. I manage to resist purchasing the books most of the time. Since seeing "Julie and Julia" I keep noticing Julia Child's books in the store, but I haven't bought them. (Uhm.....yet?)  But from time to time I do get "conquered".

This summer I kept looking at "A Taste of Canada" in my local bookstore. Each time I walked into that particular section of the store, it was sitting there, placed with the front facing out (rather than the spine, the art of  merchandising ...) and it seemed as if it said: "pick me, pick, me!" I then had to look one more time, secretly hoping to find a defect that would let me decide I really didn't want it. Eventually I realised there was no defect, and bought the book.

I didn't use to like to cook very much before. I spent a decade with tiny impractical apartment kitchens. My first place had a real life enamel slop sink in the kitchen, and no actual counter!  When we moved to a place with a more practical (if very ugly) kitchen, there was still the long and intense workdays that killed any motivation to go beyond the "ready in 20 minutes or less" options. 

Work and life are in better balance these days, and now I have time and motivation to try some other recipes. I still look for meals that can be ready relatively quickly on weekdays, but I do try a lot of new recipes now, even during the week.

Of course I had to do some of the holiday cooking from my new acquisition. I wanted to be semi-traditional on Christmas eve, and incorporate winter vegetables, while at the same time give it a "new" twist.  The result was tourtiere turnovers and a rutabaga casserole.

A nice Jackson-Triggs Merlot to accompany the food.

The casserole consists primarily of mashed rutabaga with a few carrots and four pears, seasoned with ground ginger and then baked with a lemon parsley breadcrumb crust. The usually bitter-ish taste of the rutabaga (bane of most small children) is nicely balanced with the other flavours without disappearing. The turnovers are made with puff pastry and traditional tourtiere filling, and served with cranberry sauce for those who want it.

I decided to leave desert to the local catering and pastry shop, Sucre-Sale. I ordered a log there last year as well, and they do a fantastic job.

You almost feel guilty cutting it!

As far as Christmas day is concerned......I am going to cook an elk tenderloin.  We'll see how that turns out. Stay tuned...........

Mother nature's little hissy fit - pretty!

Tuesday last week the weather forecast called for 35 to 45 cm of snow on Sunday. Most of us didn't know if we should take it serious or not, the forecast was still for 5 days away. In any case, lately the weather forecast seems to be done by the guy from that old Tylenol commercial. He admits the tablets work, and his girlfriend says: "I like a man who can admit he is wrong." He replies: "Well, I'm wrong a lot!"  Meteorologist, for sure!

By Thursday it was only going to be only 10 to 15 cm of snow, and on Friday they changed it to freezing rain. I lived in Montreal during the ice storm of '98, so whenever I hear freezing rain, automatically have to worry a little about how far out of hand this could get. I do know that weather conditions were very unusual at the time, but I guess I am just a tiny bit traumatised..............

Sure enough Sunday mid morning it started to rain. It was about one degree below zero, and as we watched the two crab apples across the street slowly took on a shiny silvery hue. The temperature was expected to rise, and the freezing rain turn to regular rain later. Because it was only -1, the streets were very drivable, and I convinced the photographer that we just had to go get some pictures of this treacherous and temporary beauty.


Just around the corner is a tamarisk shrub that I usually admire in summer for it's explosion of fluffy antique-pink flowers. The smallest branches and twigs were now coated in a fine layer of ice, revealing detail  that we don't normally see in winter. All of this shows well against the background of cedars.

There is a bus stop a few streets away from us. At some point a birdhouse got put up on the other side of the sign. No one was at the bus stop, and I am pretty sure the bird house is vacant too. Brrrr.

Scotch pine with every needle on this branch coated in a thin layer of ice. A drop is about to fall.

A row of smaller trees (crab apples?) under power lines. The lines are definitely coated in ice, but they do not look weighed down very much.

There are three little berries left on this branch. The birds must have missed them somehow.  The rain continues to come down.

This spectacular picture is fit to be a Christmas card. I just need five pounds of fine glitter and we can compete with Hallmark. Can you imagine this little stream is called Mud Creek? It clearly was not named under these kinds of weather conditions.

Birch trees are often tall and thin, and then tend to get very weighed down by the ice. We have similar trees in the front yard, and when this happens I always worry that  they will snap. One year the top actually froze to the ground, and only thawed a day or two later. It took a long time to straighten again.

On Nichol Island Road there is an abandoned house. I never understand that, surely someone must have wanted this property, even if only to rent, at least before it caught fire, and was left to decay? Fixer upper? It is far beyond repair now I think. Sad! By the time we drove by it, a comb of icicles had formed on the roof edge, and a larger icicle was forming in the corer.

 A row of shrubs in a parking lot, completely evenly coated, and contrasting with the tail lights of parked cars.

Only an hour later the temperature had gone above freezing and most of this beauty disappeared quickly, and with it the risk of accidents and power outages. Freezing rain is very pretty, preferably for a very short time.

My mission to find more beauty in winter continues.......

Christmas lights across the Capital

This year we decided to attend the Christmas lights across Canada ceremony on Parliament Hill. This ceremony has taken place for the last 26 years, always on the first Thursday in December at 6 pm. Over the years it has grown to include lighting ceremonies in each provincial and territorial capital, at the same (local) time.

We usually drive by "the hill" (as people in Ottawa refer to the Parliament buildings) at some point in December to see the lights all lit up, but we had never actually attended the ceremony before. At the end of the workday we first stopped for some pizza (for the photographer) and pasta (for me) at Johnny Farina, easily our favourite restaurant in down town. Then we made our way up Metcalfe street to the hill, the center block already lit up from it's base in a fuchsia colour, which was changed to yellow and then to blue. A good size crowd had gathered before the steps to center block at about 10 minutes to six. We set up the camera a bit further back on the left lawn, to be able to shoot pictures over people's head while still being able to use the tripod, needed for the long exposures in the dark.

The peace tower's carillon was playing "White Christmas". I'd like to be kind, but we need a better carillon player. I've heard the carillon played before (lunchtime in the summer) and I can only call this person's style plodding and hesitant, and characterised by some kind of fear of using the smaller (higher note) bells. After it finished the person was introduced over the speakers as Dr. so and so, proving once again that a PhD does not quality make.

 

Purple peace tower with it's prominent gargoyles.

Directly to our left was a wood fire where you could obtain marshmallow and sticks to roast them on. There was a Beaver Tails stand set up on the other lawn, and an energy company provided free coffee. Somewhere the organisers were handing out candles (with collars to keep the flame from going out) but we were afraid to lose the great spot (or each other) so we passed on that.

At six o'clock they opened the ceremony and introduced a children's choir. They were amazing! Well practiced, clear, completely in perfect harmony. As a nice understated touch they were not dressed all the same, but instead had matching hats and scarves. At the same time a group of people emerged from the main doors in center block and waited behind the podium.

The choir in front of the provincial and territorial flags. The big button in the bottom right corner was later used to start the fireworks and light the lights,

As this year is the United Nations International Year of  Youth, the organisers had chosen two seventeen year old high school students  to be master of ceremony. A girl from the Gatineau side of the National Capital region, and a guy from the Ottawa side. Each of them had a list of accomplishments far more extensive than the average middle aged person.

The dignitaries were introduced and descended the stairs to take their places at the front of the podium. The choir then sang "Oh Canada", during which they projected the maple leaf fluttering on the wind onto each side of center block.

Maple leaf projected on center block.

Prime Minister Stephen Harper then gave a speech about the year that had just passed.  He highlighted among other things the Olympics games in Vancouver, hosting the G8 and G20 (well, he is a politician) the damage done by hurricane Igor in Newfoundland, and the earthquake in Haiti, and the effort of the Canadian Armed Forces in response to these events, and in general. He then introduced a series of Christmas message from the provincial and territorial premiers, which were projected onto each side of the center block. 

If you look carefully you can make out Ontario Premier Dalton McGuinty doing his Jacob Marly impression, just not so gloomy.

Then a countdown, and with fireworks from the front of the lawns they lit up the lights on the hill and along Confederation Boulevard. Once the smoke from the fireworks settled, and people began to leave, we moved further off to one side to take some more pictures of the building. Unfortunately we can't capture the fact that the ice crystals projected on the building are moving. 

All the lights lit up. Click on the image to see the larger version.

After that we made our way west along Wellington back to the car. We were pretty frozen by then, so the photographer was not in the mood to set up again to take a picture of the Supreme Court building, and we went back for that the next day. I think he regrets it now, because they managed to haul in construction equipment in the mean time. Oh well. It looks absolutely gorgeous lit up from the inside.

We picked up a hot chocolate at Bridgehead Coffee, Ottawa's home grown answer to Starbucks (in your dreams....) and made our way home. It was definitely worth seeing once, and it's a nice way to kick off the Christmas season. After all if we take our cue from retailers Christmas is the day after Halloween, and that's just a bit too much for me.

Making friends with late fall and winter: a start.

The last few years I have been having a hard time with winter. I am just fine until about January 15th, when suddenly there is nothing festive in the stores anymore, and I no longer have a use for the snow and the cold. I start to feel like I have to survive the stretch from then until about mid April. For a good part of this time it is still dark outside when we leave for work in the morning, and already dark when we go back home. I miss my garden, because although it is not a showpiece, it relaxes me to work in it.

This year I have decided that it is counterproductive to live one quarter of your time in a sort of mental "on hold", just waiting for it to pass. Winter is not going to change to accommodate me, so I will have to change what I do and  how I think to better deal with it. So I have gone on a sort of mission to see and experience winter differently. Some of the ideas that I have are purely practical. For instance, snowshoeing will get me out of the house and into nature without having to go too far or invest ridiculous amounts of money in gear.

But I realised that I aside from the practical, also have to produce a mental shift. It does not make any sense to hate winter, because it is just part of nature's cycle. And so one of my goals is to rediscover the beauty in it, even when the snowbanks are brown from car exhaust, and the flakes are not big and fluffy, but hard and fine and sting your face in the wind.

And so I have been concentrating on what happens around me as the seasons move forward, and how nature and the area prepare for winter, because usually when I have raked the last leaves I stop observing what happens around me outside, and retreat inside.

Bear with me, it may look like I am changing the subject now, but there is a point to all this.

Saturday was an absolute beautiful late fall day. It is supposed to be drab now, after all it is November, but it was more like a sunny mid October day, everything was bathed in this golden light. Definitely time for a mini road trip. We picked Kingston, and then never actually made it there. Here's why.

We live a hop skip and a jump away from a UNESCO World Heritage site. The Rideau Canal stretches from Kingston to Ottawa, and was built as a means to transport troops, supplies and military equipment from Montreal to the British naval base in Kingston.  The decision to build this canal was made shortly after the war of 1812, when the threat of another attack by the United States on what was then the British colony of Upper Canada still remained. The St-Lawrence river was then not only difficult to navigate, but was too risky a route, as it runs along the border with the US.

It took six years, starting in 1826 to construct the 202 km waterway under the supervision of Lieutenant-Colonel John By of the Royal Engineers. In 1827 Bytown was founded at the end of the canal, and this town was renamed Ottawa in 1855 when it incorporated into a city. By that time the treat of  an attack from the US had faded, and the St-Lawrence river rapids had been tamed. Use of the canal shifted to local commercial interest and after that to pleasure boating.

In 1925 the canal was designated a National Historic Site of Canada. It is now the oldest continuously operated canal system in North America, and is largely operated in the same way as it was on the day it opened. It consists primarily of the Rideau and Cataraqui rivers and some seven lakes. About 19 km of the waterway is man made, the rest consist of a series of 47 locks and control dams, which allow for the water levels to be controlled carefully, and raised the water level to make the rivers navigable.

If you live in Ottawa you are likely very familiar with the series of locks at the Chateau Laurier, which are featured on the UNESCO page, and also the locks at Hogs Back. But the most picturesque set of locks are the ones at Jones Falls.

So:

As we were driving the back roads towards Kingston yesterday, we saw the sign for Jones Falls and decided to pull in and have a look. The canal closed mid October for the winter, and water levels have been reduced so that most locks are completely dry.  If they did not do this, water would expand when it freezes, and could cause damage to the the lock walls. We have been to this place a number of times when pleasure crafts  are going through the locks, and the river is full of boaters.

We parked in front of Kenny Hotel. (The slide show on the website is worth watching.) It also appeared to be closed for the winter, and handymen were doing maintenance work on the outside. Other than the occasional sound of their electric saw, there was very little sound at all. The area is well off the road in what is already a very rural area. We could hear some traffic in the distance, but mostly it was quiet. There weren't even any birds singing, but at one point we did hear a woodpecker at work.

The locks were completely dry. Jones Falls also has a small generating station, (an unfortunately ugly building) and we concluded that with these low levels all the water that does flow is being bypassed through there for generating. We crossed the bridge from the parking lot to the the lock sites, and then climbed the stairs beside each of the first thee locks until we had a view of the fourth separate lock over the little bay.

The low water level in the bay exposed some beautiful rocks that were reflected in the very still water. The photographer hiked from rock to rock on the exposed bay bottom to get a good point from which to take some shots. I remained on the bay's retaining wall, warmed by the autumn sun and soaking in the peaceful setting.

View of the upper lock and the little bay with the reduced water level.

View of the bay's shore with someone's dock hanging down. The blue effect is caused by the shadows over the rocks.

Next to the highest of the three clustered locks is the lockmaster's house. It has also been shut down for the winter, and the flags have been removed. There were still some pamphlets in a holder. An old manual water pump sits next to the house, but just to the left there is also a well head visible, so likely the pump has been left for show. Behind it a piece of the Canadian Shield pokes through the soil. It really does not take much to realise what a tough job it must have been to install these locks.

The lockmaster's house. (Note to Kate: No detail whatsoever.......)

We decided to hike the trail along the bay to get to the upper lock. The trail is marked with a warning that it is rugged, and there is quite a bit of climbing to do. Unfortunately we must have missed a marker or something else obvious, because we ended up on the road that runs away from the area, or if you go the other way, it runs back to the lockmaster's house. We never made it to the upper lock. But halfway along the portion of the trail we did cover, we got a fantastic view.

Two other couples showed up to walk around, but neither of them stayed very long. Although it was only about two o'clock in the afternoon, the low slanted sun gives the impression that it is much later in the day. The angle did provide an opportunity for unique portrait photography.

There we are, courtesy of the low sun.

At the middle lock they was evidence of some construction work. You can see the remnants of what used to be a swing bridge, which must have been removed a long time ago. A bridge like this is still in operation at the Long Island Locks in Manotick. We found a temporary bridge here, and a temporary road to cross the lock. I assumed this is temporary, as this bridge does not lift. That's not going to work when the canal re-opens in spring. It also looked like major work has been done on the wall of the lock. A portion has been replaced by concrete, and they have made the lines in it to make it look like stone and match the rest of the structures. Perhaps this temporary bridge is for this work. Crossing to the other side of the locks would be quite the detour otherwise.

The middle empty lock with what must surely be a temporary bridge.

And from the other direction. Nice sky!

The lower lock, doors left open. There is still some water in this one, but not much.

And the view the other way. As you can see all the operation is still done the way it was originally. No grey panels with buttons to operate the doors or the sluices electrically. This is all done with shoulder and arm muscle power.

 The bridge back to Hotel Kenny.The white speck in the sky is the moon. Standing on the dock in front of the hotel, the water was so clear, you could see the bottom.

We spent so much time in this place yesterday, that it was really not worth it anymore to go on to Kingston. But neither of us was disappointed at that. In the past we would probably not have chosen to visit this place "out of season" and just have concluded that it would be uninteresting. It proved to be anything but!

And that is kind of the moral of my long and rambling story. I am trying to re-appreciate the beauty that is right outside my front door, because over time you start to take things for granted. And I am trying to appreciate it in ways other than the usual. In this case the usual would be the canal in summer or maybe just the skateway in winter. (In other words the way that this area is marketed to tourists.)

We will see how far I get with this. I'm sure to post about it.

Urban decay

We drove to the Ottawa bagel shop today to get some Montreal style bagels. (For readers from other areas, this is not a joke. Montreal style bagels are a specific kind of bagel, and much tastier than the supermarket variety.) It was about freezing, overcast and trying to snow. The smell of wood burning stoves and fireplaces was in the air in our neighbourhood.

Mission accomplished, we resisted the desire to immediately return to our own toasty home. Our idea was to go take a walk near some water and perhaps take some pictures. We ended up at the entrance to the Lemieux Island water plant. We had stopped there before, and discovered that the area has a gorgeous view of the city and river, but I noticed a little detail this time that I hadn't before.

Tucked against the slope of the river's shore opposite  the parking lot are the ruins of an old building. Based on the shape of the windows we conclude it was once a small church, but we don't actually know for sure. (Google was no help either, but then, if someone cared, it probably would not be in this state.)  Time and nature have done their job exceedingly well, and the building is far beyond any possibility of repair.The fence around it has warning signs that the structure is unstable, stating the blatantly obvious.

I carefully make my way around the structure along the fence. The far end has completely collapsed, and does not give any more clues about the building's purpose. The rotting boiler for the heating system is visible through a hole in one wall. I t is covered in large patches of brown and white scabs of corrosion.

The photographer is not to be stumped by the seven foot high chain link fence, and manages this shot right through the fence and a half round window situated behind the black lean-to shed.

This is a spot we will definitely return to.  I particularly love these abandoned old structures when contrasted against the very young green of spring.

Years ago we used to pass by this overgrown field on our daily commute. In winter we could see that there was an abandoned and decaying farmhouse hidden behind the young trees. In summer you could not see it because of the dense foliage. We referred to it as the "ghost farm". We made a point of checking the place out one day in spring, for the exact purpose of photographing it against the young green buds.

Time had done even more advanced work on this structure, bushes and small trees were growing through the destroyed floor. Really only the walls were still standing.

Inside you can see the slots where the beams to support the upper level floor were supposed to go. There was some evidence that at some point there was a fire, explaining the advanced decay with virtually intact walls.

 

A tree branch was growing in through a side window.

This building was removed some years later, or perhaps it finally collapsed, I don't know. It is no longer visible from the road, even in winter. In it's good days it probably looked a lot like this.

After we finished examining the collapsed "church" today, we took a walk in the park adjacent to the water plant. A decommissioned railway bridge connects Ottawa to Lemieux Island, and then a second bridge connects the island to Gatineau on the Quebec side of the river.

Behind it is the modest downtown Ottawa skyline with the parliament buildings on the left. The bridge is closed, but apparently pedestrians and some cyclists do use it, although we did not see any today. The fact that the bridge is officially not in use is a real shame. Light commuter rail could be crossing here, removing pressure of the other bridges. Hello, Mr. Mayor, are you listening?  Probably not.

A little graffiti, but very much still standing.

View towards Ottawa. The spaces between the railroad ties are open to the water below.

View towards the second bridge and Gatineau. Some graffiti artist also got the point. What a waste.

Leaving Lemieux Island, we crossed the Ottawa Parkway onto Bayswater road, and right at the corner we found this closed building. At least I hope it is closed, there are quite a few broken windows.

The sign above the large brown garage doors says this building belongs to the sewer works. Well Mr. Mayor, what are you doing with this?

We were actually not looking for a theme, but it looks like it got thrown in our laps.

But the little kid in me likes the frosted side.

The slogan from this more than 20 year old commercial for Kellog's mini wheats has stuck with me. It gets pulled out sometimes when it snows. Not during your mid winter snowfall, there is nothing special about that, but rather the first snow of the season, or that unexpected last spring snow that sometimes falls after everything has already melted, and I've put my boots away.

Yesterday it rained for a good part of the day. In the afternoon we went for a coffee with a friend, and I noticed that even though it was above freezing, the cold really bit. Sure enough on the way back home the rain was mixed with some wet snow. We went back in the house, and didn't pay attention to the outside anymore, it was getting dark anyways.

At about 8 pm, the photographer happened be going down the stairs and looked out the window over the front door. "You should have a look outside" he calls to me. Sure enough, fluffy flakes were coming down, and staying on the ground. There wasn't much wind, and when I stepped outside I immediately noticed the peculiar acoustic conditions that snow always produces. It's oddly still, as if nature asks you to listen for a moment.

Call the photographer into action. The long exposure means that you cannot see the snowflakes, but you can see that the snow has produced a fine outline on the bare trees. My spirea has not dropped all it's leaves yet, and some maples are still stubbornly holding their leaves. Two weeks ago the city came and installed the "arm" on the fire hydrant (so it can be found when buried in the snowbank) and I thought: "already"?

If it does not melt today (and that seems unlikely) it will mean that tricker-treaters will be more visible tonight.

I know that come the middle of February I will be sick to the teeth of this stuff. It happens every year. This pretty dusting will be replaced by ugly brown dirt in the snowbanks, and ice patches that are incompatible with not so sure-footed me. By March I will get spring fever, pre-maturely and unpractical. But today I can appreciate the beauty.

So now I am having a bit of a flannel morning. Tea and toast with jam in my jammies while looking out the window. Large flocks of geese are flying overhead massing for the trek south. Someone once told me that they will not cross the rivers until they freeze, but in any case they will leave soon.

All this white stuff is reminding me that  we need to buy a new Christmas tree. Our old one went curbside after nine years of duty, the last two years I had to truss it together with brown 4/22 wire, as the branches were drooping due to cracked supports. No doubt by tomorrow every retail store will me in full Christmas mode.


It's just that time of year.

Yin and Yang

Every once in a while the ordinary becomes extraordinary, seemingly without anything to precipitate it. And that's how it was last Sunday. A very ordinary day with some chores and errands was half way done. Summer clothing and shoes was put away, and winter items put in their place. A nice bright sun was shining, chasing away the overcast feeling of the day before, and a very strong wind was literally blowing the leaves out of the trees.

We decided to run some errands and at the same time grab a "treat" coffee (ie: Starbucks). Usually this can be done very close to home, but for some reason the photographer decided to take the back roads west, and drive to the Kanata Centrum instead.

On Eagelson Road we crossed the Jock river, and all of a sudden he hit the brakes,  decided to turn back, and stop on the southern bank of the river. There is a small gravel patch to park, but it is not even an official boat launch or anything like that, and I had never seen it before.

Down on the edge of the water the most amazing view greets us. The Jock river, rippled up by the strong wind, and a dark slate blue as only autumn light can make it is offset by the most beautiful golden yellow and fading green colours. Sunk in the landscape in the distance is a farm, which in this splendor takes on the very image of wholesome agriculture. Over all this there is this gorgeous blue sky.

We follow a muddy path to see where it goes, and come to a flooded patch.The water is swirling over the road in multiple directions, as if it cannot quite figure out which way to go. The wind is strong enough to push me back a step on a few occasions.

Pretty shots taken, we get back in the car. "Wow that was something" is the general sentiment expressed. We continue to weave our way left - right - left - right to Kanata. We come to an intersection under construction, and a new road has been connected. We decide to take to road and see where it goes. In the process we attempt to locate a specific wooded country road, and discover that it has been mostly clear cut this summer and a subdivision has sprung op. Bummer! The road no longer connects where we expect to and we eventually end up on Old Carp road.

Here we get surprise number two of the day. The light, and the tall mature trees, all uniformly in orange leaf, give the impression of being in some kind of cathedral like passage. The scene is the complete opposite of the earlier open fields on the water. Here you have an enclosed and almost ethereal feeling of a woodland in which a sprite or fairy could peek from behind a tree at any moment.

Many three point turns and a bunch of shots later, we leave the area behind with "what would it be like to live on this road" sentiments floating through our head. In the end the coffee ended up forgotten, because the pleasure of a treat coffee had been completely eclipsed by the find of two such opposite things, both representing the extraordinary in the ordinary. All of this within the technical limits of the city of Ottawa, and both places we had been to before on many occasions.  On Sunday they were somehow very different.

Day 6: Going back home.

Sunday September 12:

We have a long drive back to Ottawa, and we want to do it in one day this time, so we get up at 6:00 and clear out of the Inn, packed, checked and double checked by 7:15. Therefore we have no breakfast there that morning, because they don't start it until 8:00. But the ever present chef is already there. Smart ass that I am, I ask him if he has a twin. (Predictably, no!)

We end up getting a breakfast about 90 minutes later at McDo's right by the Sagamore bridge. McGriddle sandwiches (or as we call them: squishy burgers) hashbrowns and coffee. Normally we eat a McDo's maybe once or twice a year, but still I am amazed that the service is much faster and friendlier in the US than in Ottawa. Clearly it is not impossible.

We proceed through Boston, and since it is Sunday the roads are very quiet. It looks like a city that is definitely worth exploring at some point in the future. This time we take I89 from Concord so that we can go through Burlington VT on the way back. When we lived in Montreal we went there usually once per summer, but we have not been there since 1997.

Black and white cows are grazing in peaceful pastures by the road. So Vermont! Contrary to our trip down, we do see some beginning fall colour. Here and there is suddenly a bright red spot on the mountainside. We make very good time so we calculate that we can actually wait to have lunch in Burlington. We stop at a K-Mart in Lebanon VT to pick up some throat lozenges, because I am starting to feel it already. We pick up some half decent coffee there as well.

We get to Burlington at about 13:15. It has not changed much, just been updated really. We browse in a Barnes and Noble bookstore, and  have lunch in a pub on the Church Street Marketpace.

There is some event going that weekend, and there are all sorts of bandstands and performers.  We stop to watch a street performer jump through a fire ring. It's all about the build up and his routine, not about the jump. He gets a volunteer from the audience, and first pretends that he will set this person on fire. It turns out he is using water instead of a flammable liquid, and when the person fails to catch fire, he takes us all to task for not attempting to intervene. He does finally jump through the burning hoop, but he keeps talking first until the flames are very small. But he does put on an entertaining show.

After Burlington we take the road through the Champlain Islands, and cross back into Canada at Noyan, in order to avoid the Sunday lineups at the big Lacolle crossing. They have not seen this from people from Ottawa, and so we explain that we used to live in Montreal. We continue our way across Candiac and St-Catherines where we have a real life traffic jam for no detectable reason, and cross the river via the Mercier bridge. We make it home by 8 pm.