We haven't watched a film in ages. Before the onset of the pandemic we would make a weekly selection from the public library branch located nearest us and sit back on a Saturday night to be entertained by the occasional good film, and bored by the more frequent bad ones. When Irving and Jordan went to the library yesterday there was little to choose from, but then a little gem presented itself and was brought home with them.

 

Our DVD player had given up the ghost and we hadn't done anything about it. Last night, Jordan and Irving exchanged the kaput one for a blue-ray video player and after it was set up, we spent the next few hours tensely viewing The Last Vermeer, a period piece taking place in post-war Holland, where a Dutch Jew who had spent the war years with the underground resistance was charged by the military with investigating Dutch Nazi collaborators.

 

Any Dutch who were found guilty of collaboration with Nazi Germany were summarily subject to a shooting squad, shot to death for their war crimes, with an audience of angry citizens looking on; rough justice. Art connoisseur Han van Meegeren was known as one of the most expert forgers of old masterpieces of his era, and it was this man who next came to the attention of the investigator, Joseph Piller. The film is tense, well-acted, its historical aura and filmography of time and place mesmerizing. The film impressed us; that it also portrayed a real historical event, all the more so.. 

In the end, van Meegeren was so successful in masterfully explaining away all indications that would lead to his guilt of collaboration, that the investigator believed him to be innocent, and successfully fought against the state prosecutor who presented incriminating evidence. The slippery, flamboyant van Meegeren's life was preserved, and then came the denouement, when Investigator Piller was given clear evidence of the man's guilt as a despicable collaborator.

Today, our son Jordan's visit with us came to an end. When we checked the flight schedule out of Ottawa to Vancouver, there was no delay in his flight. The storm that we had concentrated on as a threatening impediment to his getting safely away and back home never did quite eventuate. Flights out of Ottawa weren't delayed and were right on schedule.

 

It's always a glum drive at departure time back to the airport, but Jordan kept up a steady stream of bright conversation. Jackie and Jillie sat with me, in the back seat and they were clearly disconcerted and most uncomfortable. They're accustomed to sitting up front with us on any vehicle trips, spoiled little brats.

The major roads were clear of ice, unlike side streets, so traffic moved at a steady pace. We did see an unusual number of ambulances and first-responder vehicles on the road and that made me a trifle uneasy. The day was completely overcast; light morning flurries but nothing to cover the layer of ice over everything. A heavy ice fog drew a dark curtain over the landscape, fine water vapour permeated the atmosphere.

 

There's scrub forest on either side of the highway approaching the airport. The forest looks absolutely shocking. Its condition is testament to the power of the micro tornadoes that burst through this area back at the end of May 2022, called a derecho. Trees knocked down everywhere. All area trees are covered with a crisp luminous layer of ice from last night's rain and following quick-freeze.

We judged it best, on our return home, not to venture this day out to the ravine; too icy underfoot, and the fog more resembled night than it did dusk. Besides which, we just didn't feel like venturing out as usual. The house seems really quiet and a little empty now.