Two villages were built near a water basin lost in the middle of a fertile plain.
A village for the rich. A village for the poor.
At that time, anglophone were the rich and the francophone, the poor.
As time went by, the villages merge to become one small town.
That’s where we decided to live. We liked the water, the view, the house we bought, one of the only one with a big tree on the front lawn.
All the relevant questions were asked and answered and vice-versa.
But we didn’t ask anything about the geese. And so, it was told to us that, twice a year, for a month or so, canadian geese held a convention on the near by quiet waters of the basin.
Does a goose say « quack »?
Spring is near by. The geese are never wrong.
As soon as we can hear them, we know the ice, the snow will melt, the warmth will come back.
Pandemic or not.
Every year, it feels me with joy. This year, it’s both a joy and such a comfort to watch them fly, hear them shout.
« La nature suit son cours » as we say around here. Nature’s carry on.
So does the writing !
Thanks to a very short four hours of sleep last night, this writing week is starting in a slowly but surely manner.
I will do everything in my humble power to switch things up and reach this week word count goal: 55 000 words.
Although, I’ve reached a difficult chapter, full of many decisions to take once and for all, so a potential source of dilemma to sort out. Let’s hope I make my mind up fast!
Stay home, stay safe, dear writer friends, and have a wonderful writing week!