A Memoriam Of Trees
This second part of this story I write is owned by Alexandre Savoie, alias Romantyke. Every names, characters and events indicia are purely fictional. Any happenings which tends to be similar to these in any way is entirely coincidential.
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This is the second part of my story A Memoriam of Trees. Sit back, light up if you care and enjoy!
March 9th 2009 Vallee de la Rouge Quebec, Canada
It was always a blue sky. Always. The sunshine was dazzling and blazed with tender warmth on these northern reaches.
Everywhere I looked at, there were pine trees rich with the colour of irish green. The springtime had made the ice frostings fall from every branch. Snow still covered most of the ground, but here and there, draughts breezed warm and made every single day worth it.
The road to the farm I intended to go work at has been a winding one. It went down the Mont-Tremblant, through the wooded icelands eastwards. All the time, it was sinking down. Ever and anon. Eventually, the pathless thickets had stopped going down, until it reached a clearing at the border of the mountain.
I looked down at my destination for the summer to come. La Vallee de la Rouge. It was a valley nestled between two high mountains quite far one from another, in the center of where a beautiful red river flowed all year and never got frozen over. Fields were scattered all around the water serpentine trail. And...
There! The farm I was looking for! It was the one.
I lit myself a cigarette, and started to walk down towards the sunlit valley. The place where I was to learn power nature's bounty do possess.
Dusk had fallen when I knocked at the door. It took a few seconds, and I saw a silhouette in the glass come closer and answer to greet me. It was a women of a certain age, but beautiful. Her skin was pale of milk, her eyes as blue as forget me nots, and under the shawl covering her hair, golden braids could be glimpsed.
' Ahhh! So, you must be Maxime. The young man, right? '
I smiled politely.
' Yes, Madam. '
' Please! Call me Catherine. Or Cathou. Come on in. We were making supper. '
I came into the huge mansion which housed the main household of the farm. Catherine took my luggage and turned to the people all assembled around the huge wooden counter.
' Everyone, say hello to Maxime! '
They all smiled and waved merrily.
' Hi! '
I looked around the place. I felt like home right away. It was the contrary of the old dank orphanage. Wooden. Rustic. Humble. And yet with a feel of being home. No TV. No computer. No stereo in the living room. No microwave. No electric oven. No dishwasher in the kitchen.
The music came from a historical TSF dating obviously from the 40s.
The kitchen was equipped with old fashioned 60s kits. Oil lamps as well, though unused, since electricity was keeping three old fashioned wooden candelabra lit. They were quite difficult to make out at first, because they were clouded in quite a thick smoke. The main light came from a bright woodfire in a hearth right beside a staircase which obviously led to the other floors. The three rooms were immense just at first sight.
I saw right away that just about everyone was a smoker in here. Every man at least. Less the women. Catherine certainly did seem too beautiful to smoke.
Amongst the household, there were several coworkers. All from around the world obviously. WOOFERs, no doubt. Blonds, browns, and even red heads. My eyes were drawn automically to the one and only dark face in the room. Before I could examine the guy with my gaydar, Catherine went on.
' Feel free to settle in first. Your bedroom is on the second floor. The one right in front of the biggest bathroom of the wing. We will continue making supper. Don't worry, I will make introductions as soon as we tuck in. Oh, and don't mind the animals around here. We have nine cats and five big dogs in the house. They are harmless. Sacha will ring the bell announcing supper. If you need help, just pet our Siberian Husky - The one here, name's Chaya - on her left ear. She will come to fetch me. You can trust her. If I haven't come to your aid, shout. '
They called it a barn house? It was amazingly huge! The staircase was leading on to several other floors up. I turned at the second floor and had a look around the hallway. It was rustic again. It smelled of wood. A wonderful smell of home. Everywhere, personal goods were laying just here and there. Clean golden ashtrays with comfy couches to sit beside while smoking. Packs of Marlboros all neatly packed. Each drawers were decorated with biblical statues. That big painting at the end of the hallway was representing Jesus. The wooden beams were soberly carved, chipped a little bit with age. But no sign of dirtyness. No sign of decay. No sign of abandon. It was a old mansion, yet tended with care and love, very obviously.
The bathroom caught my breath. Catherine was right. It was big. In the center was a golden bath with four paws like the ancient times. The toilet was definitely inspired by the colonial age, so was the sink, and that golden statue holding a really working clock with the balance ball clicking and swaying.
I startled. I looked down. I breathed again. It was only the Husky. Man. She was beautiful. Other footsteps could be heard. Then came two toffee coloured cats, and another dog. A Newfoundland. It was huge. The two dogs started begging me for a pet on the head. The two cats went into the room facing the bathroom. I followed them.
It was a spacious room. Big. Airy and bright. Even a hearth in there, along with the fire kit and some faggots beside the grate, neatly piled in a small lump on a red carpet. The furniture was all wooden and smelled nostalgic. The bed was awesome. My jaw dropped and I stood there gaping at it. It was a canopy bed. With red curtains. A red blanket and red pillows. It felt so comfy and beautiful.
I started to settle in by putting my clothes in the drawers and lighting a fire in the hearth. The dogs went near it and layed down for a nice nap in front of the warm flames. The cats were purring on my bed. I lit a well earned cigarette and rested a bit on the rocking chair.
Then the bell rang. The dogs and the cats all ran downstairs. I breathed, then started going down. Was the guy this beautiful, or was it just a trick of the light?
To Be Continued...
Sainte-Agathe-Des-Monts Quebec Canada