Nearly three months have passed since we arrived in Montréal. In that time we have experienced the heat of summer, the protean abundance of autumn, and now, with the first snow: winter. The locals may disagree with the seasonal classification yet: four centimetres of snow is nothing compared to what awaits them in February.
The Biosphère on Île Sainte-Hélène, stoic in its ruin, provides the perfect backdrop to observe the changing of the trees, dark greens turning to red-browns and golden yellows, before the leaves are lost to icy gales. Now, snow covers the bare branches and dusts the few evergreens with the miasmic powder of the cold; the sky turns grey and the ashen skeleton of the Biosphère mimics its hue.