One of the aspects I've enjoyed the most about living in Quebec has been all the different trees and foliage. Autumn in Montreal was an experience for the soul. I relished each tree and it's colorful coat of leaves.
The trees are all empty now. There's just some remnant leaves on the yards and roads, devoid of color except that musty brown that leaves always get after they fall.
There's a maple tree in the front yard. It was on of the last trees on the street to turn brilliant orange and red and yellow. And then it was on of the last trees to lose all its leaves. I loved peeking out each morning and seeing the sun glint off its leaves. The blue, blue sky providing a contrasting background. And the sun streaming through it's leaves. I knew I would miss all of that when the season changed.
But then, one night I looked out at my tree. The branches were bare, coated with rain and sparkling with the moon's light. I remembered what I'd read once about the beauty of stark branches against a night sky and I remembered the ache of beauty.
I'm feeling a little melancholy today. A little torn. In one week, we're driving out. Heading home. Back to the West after living in the East for eight months.
I'm packing and cleaning and making lists. Writing emails to arrange stops on the way home with friends.
And cuddling my baby girl, drinking tea and playing Christmas music.
I'm full of excitement and anticipation tempered with a little sadness at leaving this place we've made our home for the past while.
Leaves fall and seasons change.
photos captured by my Jared