Michael’s mother lives on Thetis_Island, her house off the water. New Year’s Eve morning began with breakfast and a visit to his mother’s for a dip in freezing water. Less than ten showed up for the swim. Not me. No way. Mary and Michael did the deed along with a couple other ladies, but not their men.
Afterwards, Michael organized a walk for a dozen visiting guests who stayed in various cottages on Thetis. Our closest neighbors:
Another set of guests stayed in a fabulous yellow cottage. Jean has sticky fingers when it comes to pianos. She has a need to try them out and to our benefit, she played a couple uplifting tunes.
Along the way, we passed
One of the guys picked up a branch, which appeared foaming. No one knew what it might be (it’s called hair ice).
Pictures attribution: Jon Nightingale, Vancouver
Energized from the walk, Jean and I filled petite choux with the cream concoction I’d made in Jean’s kitchen. She called her mother-in-law about parsley for these savoury bites. Sure, she had some in the garden. Remember, this is New Year’s Eve and yes, she’d bring it to the hall washed and ready to use.
Michael, Jean’s husband had left earlier for the community in jeans and a blue and white checkered shirt—and tails. Yes, tails. He looked cool. Another guest and close friend of Jean’s from Nanaimo picked us up. Her contribution to the evening eats were smoked salmon and oysters—the fresh kind, not canned. She had no plastic wrap to cover the dishes. The car smelled like a smokehouse. I salivated as I balanced the plates on my lap.
Bronwyn, our driver, didn’t know the way, especially in the inky dark. Lucky we had Jean with us. The temperature had turned frigid, a surprise to all of us after the sunny afternoon stroll we’d taken. The dead grass was spongy with frost.
The hall was packed, the tables laid out with white linens and the men prepared the food. Tiny Christmas lights hung around the room brightened lent a fe.stive. And balloons. It’s a party for grownups, but who doesn’t like balloons?
Midnight arrived as did the cake. Here’s to sister Jean on her 60th birthday.
The party’s over, but it had another interesting turn. I had mentioned to Michael’s brother, who is in real estate about a locked door at Overbury farm and how it was killing me. He smiled and promised there was a way to satisfy my curiosity.
Next on November 25th – New Year’s Day
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