Pigeons, plants, back lanes, paint, two sheep, a woman with an umbrella, a trailer in a Christmas park.
I walked around this morning with hot tea in a thermos, with my trusty wigwam toque that makes me feel like me when I wear it, wild long hairs shooting out over my shoulders (I will miss this mane one day), headphones and a musical soup of Chad VanGaalen, Land of Talk, Cat Power; four old friends walking intimately through the pretty falling snow.
Montreal is so mild lately but there is enough snow to throw the unsuspecting into unwanted loops. It is nice though. The sidewalks are cleaned up now, and no longer is it necessary to trudge anywhere. I walked this morning listening to music through my toque and being quiet. At one point at Villeneuve and St. Urbain (a really nice intersection) I stepped into a fogged bakery no larger than a big closet. The displays were steamed up from the hot doughnuts and croissants and I just whipped out my ONE fresh fifty dollar bill and bought a two dollar doughnut. I had to, there was no other option. The main baker, a kind french man with a lovely face indulged me for a few over the counter minutes and we shot the shit in broken languages, both of us embarrassed by what felt like a lack of reach the tongue has. Still, it was an exchange, a great one. That reads like we made out; we didn't, but he did give me some long baguette bags that I could sell my dolls in. Just a few, so if you get one- consider it a golden ticket bakery bag.
Baguette, hot bread. Ohhh yeah. JJ made Lo and I a Tante Mary (the whole sha-bang) spread last night. I made a deep salad and Lo brought a good selection of jazz and a bottle of vin rouge. Bicycle man. Silverman Jones. Bushchipits. Oh these women, hysterical. It was nice to lady perch around a circle table, marveling at how it took THREE years for us to all arrive in the same city once again. Nice evening, great day.
After the bakery pop in, I looped around after cruising St. Laurent and looking at all the window displays that made me miss my sister. She is so good at displays. Damn. At St. Laurent and Mont Royal (I think), I met two sheep and another nice dude. This man came out of a tiny red and white camper trailer parked in the middle of a park that is usually bare, holding a folded newspaper. It felt like the bush for a minute (cold May), maybe it was the fire burning low. He had fences up and leaning against them were Christmas trees row on row, their nets touching each other. It smelled heavenly. There were lights and ornaments hanging from tree branches heavy with pigeons (I love taking pictures of pigeons, makes me think of Europe. Oh blessed be). We shot the shit a bit and I took some pictures of his sheep. Then an eagle caught my eye.
Standing tall totem style with wings outstretched, this majestic bird towered with the trees. Morning Auntie Marj, nice to see you. So casual.
Soon Maya and I are going on a hunt for the best Sunday spoon in Montreal, as I am dying for grease meats and slippery eggs with coffee. Shittown, USA. Hey!
I found a new home on Dollard and Van Horne. It is also a long and lean apartment with jaunty angles and kind women. I will have a little sewing room with my work table and a little window looking out onto the sleepy street of Outremont. We are wading through sadness these days, but a lot of good is coming.