It's at this time of year when the setting sun appears most spectacular in its effects on the landscape and in the heavens as it rises and sets. Yesterday we had decided we'd take a drive up the eastern parkway into downtown (or uptown, depending on your perspective) Ottawa, then take the western parkway over to the little shop located in a nondescript strip mall that appears to be the remaining stained glass supply shop in the area.

All the way we drive alongside the Ottawa River; both parkways faithfully follow the river's trajectory. We pass familiar landmarks including the RCMP musical ride horse stables, and the national aeronautical museum. Yesterday was a cold and sunny day; little wind to speak of and just perfect for a drive after we'd taken Jackie and Jillie out for their usual afternoon turn on the forest trails in the ravine.

They knew they'd be coming with us. We had left their collars on and they only wear them when they're outside the house. We had exchanged their fluffy little winter coats for snug little woolly sweaters. I was prepared to sit in the truck with them while my husband selected coloured glass to supplement what he has in his home inventory, along with the lead and other items he needs to complete another set of windows. So they napped while I read the papers and my husband took his time in the shop he's been going to for decades.

Driving along on this spectacularly beautiful day it's a leisurely treat with the conditions that prevailed. The sun was blinding through the windshield of the vehicle -- appearing on the right, then the left, then back again, as the roads we were driving on turned and straightened, turned again -- but also strikingly exquisite as it glowed over the landscape, the river and the snow that covered everything in a virginal white glow. Traffic is always light along the parkways, most commuters use the express highways for a more 'efficient' drive. 

Looking across the wide river where the first signs of ice forming can be detected close to the shoreline, you see the separation between Ontario and Quebec, with the Quebec shoreline dotted by the presence of small early 20th Century houses. When freeze-up occurs in a month or so, and the river is securely tucked into winter mode, nearby residents, mostly on the Quebec side, drive onto the river, erect little huts and drill fishing holes in the ice. It's a time-honoured, favoured winter tradition.

We pass the National Gallery with its huge glassed-in atrium, the large piazza in front of the gallery dedicated to a huge sculpture of a spider, "Maman", with its cache of 'eggs' under its body. Its immense size and subject matter are fascinating, and far preferable to the usual non-objective art that usually graces public spaces in this era of modern abstract art.

When we come to Parliament Hill, we see that the East Block of the Parliament buildings is being renovated, with scaffolding towering high above, workers busy with the labour it takes to refurbish and strengthen the old masonry work. The entire campus is being worked on, bit by bit, before the Gothic-inspired buildings that so typify the era in which they were built to reflect a far earlier era's style of public buildings deteriorate beyond repair.

In the Centre Block, also under renovation, the House of Commons has been temporarily moved to the old Railway Station building long since transformed into a huge Conference Centre which now hosts parliamentary affairs temporarily, and in an entirely new mode, given the physical distancing between people required during this time of the global pandemic causing chaos all over the world, no less and far more than in Canada.

Before long we pass the Holocaust Memorial, a stark, cold, grey, sharply angled structure reflecting a horror in world history that was stark, cold and grey with shame for the world community that failed to act in any meaningful way that would put a stop to the annihilation of six million Jews. Ironically, as we pass, a traffic sign is lit up with the warning: 'Stop'. In a fitting tribute to that miserable failure, when the memorial was dedicated, the memorial plaque made no mention of the fact that the victims were Jews. And nor did Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in his sanctimonious address make reference to that inconvenient bit of reality.

 Further along the river, ducks and geese were floating on its steel-grey surface, perhaps soaking up the last warmth of the near-setting sun. Other waterbirds were nestled in flocks alongside pathways running along the grassy, now-snow-covered river banks, seemingly comfortable and not given to moving as the odd passerby strolled along the paths. They will likely very soon complete their migratory trip south for the winter months.

 It took a while before my husband finished his business in the glass shop where he was the sole customer. During that time the light began to visibly fade as dusk slowly set in. On our way driving back along first the western then the eastern parkways, the sun had set and the moon had risen. We drove home in the dark, the heavens having turned from pale blue to a deep velvety purple, the half-moon floating wan and lovely above the trees silhouetting the landscape.