Legends of the Fall

Driving through Sh’brooke today, I couldn’t help but notice how the trees are starting to change colour in earnest. A few days ago there were just a few sprinklings of red among the green, now about a third have ceased the hard work of photosynthesis and reverted to their natural hues. Every year I see this display and am always taken by surprise.

Tomorrow is the day the anglophone community of our region celebrates with an annual coming together of craftspeople, performers and more commerical concerns. It’s not supposed to be solely anglophone, and it isn’t, but it mostly is. This year it is being held on Bushop’s campus. All week they’ve been setting up tents and pavilions to house the various visiting artisans and vendors, and the music department has opened its doors with short concerts every hour to entertain and hopefully recruit. Hubby’s jazz trio is playing at 1 p.m., and at 3 p.m. I am joining the jazz guitar teacher, Grandpa Mike, for a set of jazz standards. I’ll let you know how that turns out.

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