The mountains brought us here

I've been participating in a wonderful writing group over the last year, via Shelterwriters, an AWA method group.  It's encouraged my writing in ways that I didn't imagine, but also has supported my affinity for nature writing.  This was a piece from this morning, inspired by a morning walk in Park du Bic.

Havre du Bic last year

The prompt was: How I came here

Remarkable to be in this space of rock, shore, and mist. How I came here?  The mountains brought us, the Southern Appalachians stretching north. The Gaspé Peninsula is where the Northern Appalachians dip into the sea, a fellow botanist told us decades ago. The botanical diversity is remarkable, he said.  Lots of familiar plants, but new ones, too.

So, we came, also drawn by the opportunity of family summering outside of Quebec City. Little did we imagine on that first trip that we might end up with a cottage here, a renovated schoolhouse, next to a park full of wonders.

It was quiet this morning, unusually still, mist stretching over the bays. The holiday makers usually don’t arrive until close to 10 am, so if I’m there early, the sheer magic of the surroundings prompts remembrances of other special places, in my musings:  the Colorado Rockies, the Sierra Nevada, the Cascades, the Alps, and the Dolomites.

The mountains did bring us here, to the edge of the St. Lawrence River, really a seacoast at this place, with tides, kelp, and seals. The migrating shorebirds, hawks, and hummingbirds mark the change of seasons now. The female hummingbirds are avidly visiting the feeder, fattening up for their long journey south.

Ripening rose hips are turning red and will start to become soft. We pick the last of the raspberries, with apples and pears to come. A bit of morning coolness hints of fall; wheat ready to harvest is tawny on the upper fields, contrasting with the green of alfalfa and buckwheat, scattered hay bales picturesque near old barns.

The mountains brought us here.