when i stepped out of the car -- after a seemingly endless ride of bumps tampering with my full bladder -- i immediately knew i wasn't dressed for the part... cropped black pants with navy and green legwarmers had gotten me through the day, but wouldn't do me any favours now out in the wilderness... i was apprehensive and slightly chilled...
before us stood a revitalized cabin that stood tall with gray columns of concrete strength... curved wood lined each wall as we took our tour through the house that was truly a home... large, epic windows captured a scene of solace and drama, as the tops of mountains danced outside them in the setting midnight sun... all was quiet, except for the giggle of playing children, the soft hum of portishead from the cd player and an en francais buzz...
yellow plastic cups housed my cheap red wine... at first i thought the cultural divide of francophone and anglophone would leave me sipping in solitude... but, as the new faces in the atmosphere, people promptly engaged with us in conversation... often searching for english terms confirmed their genuine sincerity... the environment was gentle and welcoming... women walked around the backyard with silent babies wrapped across their torsos in cotton...
we searched for a supposed full moon in the soft glowing sky to no avail... regardless, as the mosquitoes continued to pester our exposed skin, it was a unanimous choice that we get a fire started... abandoned wood crackled around the persistent flames... a lack of wind shot the heat straight into the air, yet still warming our limbs in the subdued evening light... a number of drums, a guitar and an accordion -- amongst other playful percussion items -- surrounded the area...
it began with the soft pounding of a drum by a toddler, obviously the youngest and tiniest member of the crowd... in came the whisper of a flute, the strum of the guitar and the power of more towering drums... though the music was french and of a tongue i could not decipher, i easily joined in the jovial chorus of laughter and appreciation that followed each presentation... it transformed us all, slowed us down and had me enthralled by the comfort and warmth that surrounded me -- both in humanity and nature...
before we'd arrived in the driveway of our evening destination, i remarked that i could not understand why someone wouldn't want to live in the comforts of riverdale -- the suburb minutes from downtown that we've established as our home... as we drove away down the gravel and dirt road last night, i realized the answer to my own naive question...
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the saying may go that "actions speak louder than words," but in my opinion words actually shout decibels above any move one could make... so expressive, interpretive and intense... all you need to find is a method to your madness to avoid rambling nonsense...
