Feast Of The Leaves, Part 2
It is 3:00. Geese know when it is 3:00 just as cows know when it is 5:00.
This is early season for them but at rush hour on this lake it is like a wall-to-wall rug of white. My cup was empty and as I got up I shot a glance at the floating flock just in time to see them lit up as though there was a spotlight aimed at them from the heavens and they were as white and bright as could be and the waters were a blue-blue of blue.
The advent of their arrival is announced by the sounds of honking, and we shall hear them well before we see them. For us up here the sound of geese, like the Sound of Music, will make you stop dead in your tracks so as not to miss a beat. The only difference between the two is that for the geese all heads are turned skyward and the applause is noted by the beauty of the smiles on all of those faces.
Of course next spring the smiling applause will be much more apparent. Right now, the Feast of the Leaves, an annual event held at my son’s yard in St-Charles-de-Bellechasse, is celebrated by my son Jacques and myself – along with the geese in the front yard.
Over a hundred thousand leaves await me, have to go.