The Boonies And Beyond

 

Two years after my near frostbitten ordeal, I visited my relatives in Saint-Jean-Port-Joli. It's a charming village settled on the shores of the Saint-Lawrence river. The panoramic scenery is quite pastoral, but if you're in search of excitement, you probably should keep on driving. During my stay, many of the locals appeared to spend much of their time sitting on the porch. One would think that a few among them couldn't wait for the grim reaper to drop by for a chat.

Fall was letting us know that it was just around the corner.

The radio played from dawn to dusk, and I remember Close to You being a hit that summer. My cousins were not living with their parents and never dropped by for a visit. It didn't bother me much, considering that I was shy as opposed to a social butterfly.
 

What prevented me from bouncing off the walls was that I had brought the telescope on the trip. During the day, using a particular lens, I discovered sunspots on the surface of our star. I would have welcomed the chance to view sun flares, but I doubt the staff at Mont-Mégantic's Observatory would have given me access to their equipment.


The timing of the trip was better than I had anticipated because my vacation coincided with the moon appearing after midnight. The house was on the outskirts of the village, and at the time, lampposts were scarce. As a result, once the sun was below the horizon, it got to be pitch-black. You literally could not see your hand in front of your face. The sky was majestic and left me speechless, which didn't mean much since I was alone during my stargazing moments.

During my stay, the cosmos had indeed been generous with me.