It was a year spent in southern Ontario, on hiatus from college.
I taught music at a small, Mennonite Bible school in Orwell, on the outskirts of Aylmer, between Tillsonburg and St. Thomas, where my daughters would be born three and four years later.
Piano, voice, music theory, introduction to music, conducting and song leading, even accordion and organ.
Summers in southern Ontario are typically humid affairs.
Muggy and moist; the air so thick some nights it's hard to breathe, while the Western Chorus Frogs sing to beat the band.
Here it's the Western's Boreal cousin, but sounding as much like a million crickets as it ever did on a damp, August evening on Talbot Street.
So, yeah... coming up the stairs after watching a slightly sad Meryl Streep movie (Dancing At Lughnasa) as the sun was beginning it's descent, and Saturday's fresh cut grass smell was drifting through the open windows on the breeze, and the humidity was on the rise and the Boreal Chorus Frogs were in full swing...
Was like stepping back in time.
I'm feeling a little homesick and slightly melancholic now.