On Tuesday, April 23, while Americans must be flourishing with spring buds
and balmy breezes, Ted and I drove to Gaspe Town to discuss the sale of
The Chaplain to the 40,000 visitors expected from cruise boats that call in
here. But right now, the ice pans are more lovely than cruise boats.
En route, I found the lake in Chandler, which was in full melt a year ago,
frozen solid. Ted the hardy Gaspesian hardly wears warm clothing
in the freezing air.
Driving over Bougainville Road, named after the Admiral who
gave his name to our gorgeous vines in California, bougainvillea,
we found all the fields snow covered.
On the route around behind Perce the frozen waterfalls
appeared like giant necklaces draped over the gaunt cliffs.
Ted snapped me in front of Au Pic de l’Aurore, the peak of dawn.
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