Foerster Cabin

North of Montreal, on the cusp of "la campagne familier",






Ryan Foerster. He has been living up at the cabin for two weeks now. His beard is thick, as are his layers of long johns. It is thirty below zero tonight, which makes it the coldest night of the season thus far. Even the wind stayed in on this crystaline eve. Ryan has made his way here to this Central Quebec 'tindage' to take advantage of his natural rights and freedoms; primarily his right to live like a real Canadian (this includes daily bouts of ice skating, lumberjacking, admiring the wild, Stompin Tom), and his freedom to refrain from communicating in the modern way and to refrain from paying rent. He is also here to take pictures of nature and youth interacting with nature.



Ryan has also seen: his neighbour (also the owner of the cabin); some chipmunks; a tadpole; the mail truck; some birds; and a Norwegian Ice rat. Him and Julie bought poison to kill the Ice rat, and since then he hasn't seen the beast.



I am the first to arrive at the cabin; there is a car with Julie and four other friends on their way. Ryan uses a Black plastic sled to transport items from the car to the cabin, and this adds a good teaspoon or more of 'over the river and through the woods' to the whole experience. The rest of the cabin-goers arrive shortly. Their names are Scott, Marianne, Iris and Juan, and they are all very good people, and I'm sorry that I spelled some of their names wrong.