Every time I told someone here that we were going back to Canada for Christmas, the response was always the same: Oh! It will be cold and snowy! Then I would politely explain that, no, in fact the rest of the country is usually cold, but the little area around Vancouver never really gets very cold. The average temperature? I don't know, maybe 8 or 5 or just around freezing, but one thing is sure, there's never snow for Christmas, just lots and lots of rain. My students were always shocked and I always a little smug for breaking their stereotypes about cold and barren Canada. Of course, I always hope for snow, but in truth I don't ever remember a white Christmas. Sometimes before (it once snowed around Halloween), sometimes after (the giant snowfall of I can't remember when but we missed, being in Mexico).
Boy, was I wrong! When we landed in Seattle it was FREEZING and there were accidents galore (well you only need 7 flakes to stick to the ground for this west coast phenomenon) - my parents had seen two city busses teetering on the edge of the highway, a story that seemed to make the top headlines in Seattle!
The highway was a mess, with parts of it totally uncleared. We crawled up to Bellingham, Roland and I dozing in and out of consciousness, though we happily woke up for a beer and some fish tacos at the brewpub.
This trip through the border was slightly more uneventful than last years fiasco with the ring and the contraband beer and hours of searching, but that's ok.
We caught the last ferry over to the island, pulling into the harbour around eleven or midnight... I can't quite recall. There was quite a bit of snow on the ground, and the amount only increased as we got closer to the house. The real challenge was getting the car up the hill on our little road. Now, Saltspring does have snow ploughs, but ingeniously when they resurfaced the roads they neglected to get the required rubber tips for the plough blade, so they can't scrape all the snow away, leaving a nice icy layer. Very clever. We did eventually get the car up the road, with the help of some dirt from the ditch and Roland sitting on the hood , but this was only a taste of things to come...
Colin came over for a few days and got so desperate they walked 2 hours into town and 2 hours back for some chips, chocolate and beer.
Attack!
Attacked.
A vegetabley friend.
December 23rd waiting for Bruce at the Victoria airport, with the obligatory (for Roland) box of Timmy's donuts. The colourful sprinkle one was avoided like the plague, naturally. Only a silly Frenchman would allow that to get in there. I think we made hime eat it.
Bruce arrived, but not his bags. Not Grandad either for that matter. Mom and Dad had to spend the night over in Saanich waiting, because, of course, he wouldn't make it in time for the last ferry back to the island.
Stocking by the fire.
Well, after much running around, we eventually all made it to the house (bags and all).
The tree.
When we were going through the garage at the appartment in Villeurbanne we came accross Roland's old bear from when he was a kid. It was looking a little worse for wear: completely flat with old stuffing (seemingly from the 1920s) coming out of his back. I put him through the wash, restuffed him and stuck him under the tree for Roland.
Roland and his bear, which strangely doesn't have a name. Maybe it wasn't really his bear.
Heading off for the annual Christmas afternoon walk.
Walking down to the beach. Autumn about to go into a snowbank/ditch.
On another walk by Fernwood.
Grandad and Bruce, Fernwood.
A serious afternoon of games. And puzzles.
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