The crickets of Limoges

It was late Saturday evening under a full moon. We were on the way back from the long but good day of Aunt Faith's funeral. Quinn had been great all day, many thanks to frequent ministerings from Rebecca. But he got hungry on the drive home, so at 10pm we pulled off at the Limoges exit on the 417. I went to pull into a service station lot that was lit, but it was closed and there were a couple of cars parked there, idling. We decided to avoid any possible local mafia transactions and went back to the highway (it was probably just Saturday night in Limoges but who knows...) . Rebecca fed Quinn while we were parked at the side of the entrance ramp.

There was not much for me to do except watch the psychedelics of the 4-way flashers in the ramp curve reflectors and listen to the frogs (I would have titled this 'the frogs of Limoges' but I wouldn't want Quebec to separate due to a misunderstanding...). As I sat and enjoyed the quietness I thought, "You know, I just never pulled off on some random exit in the woods and listened to the frogs on a Saturday night before". The things you do for parenthood. It makes you slow down and see things more. It was actually a welcome rest this night.

First the Subaru Motel at the Irving Big Stop at Edmunston; now the Subaru Roadside Restaurant in Limoges...and Rebecca says I never take her anywhere...