HARRY PALMER GALLERY

Clive Meredith wrote:

Je me souviens...   It's the motto of Quebec: a people's shout of unrestrained pride in forebearers who, against tremendous odds, established and maintained a tiny colony whose influence, in the fullness of time, would extend far afield; It's the promise of spring, the shimmering green of summer, the kaleidoscope of autumn, the fairyland of winter; It's colonists clearing their homesteads, along the lush Saint Lawrence Valley or in rugged Abitibi; It's 17th Century missionaries founding schools and hospitals which still thrive today; It's fur traders, coureures de bois and explorers; It's men of letters and of the law, men of music and of vision; It's Georges Vanier, Jules Léger. Jeanne Sauvé; It's Wilfred Laurier, Louis Saint-Laurent, Pierre Trudeau; It's Gilles Vigneault and Frank Scott, Mordecai Richler and Gabrielle Roy; It's a North Shore fisherman, going about his business in great waters; It's majestic Charlevoix, rockbound Gaspé, the pastoral Eastern Townships; It's Montreal, where,somehow, all roads seem to lead; It's Quebec City: the Plains of Abraham, the Citadel, and sidewalk cafés; It's Tadoussac and Metis Beach, Bic and Murray Bay; It's Pointe-Mille-Vaches, Notre-Dame-du-Portage, Saint-Rose-du-Dégel, Trois-Pistoles; It's the springtime ritual of sap boiling at a maple sugar shack; It's a canoe gliding across a mist-shrouded lake at dusk, and a cod boat pulling out of a quiet harbour; It's 200,000 Greater Snow Geese lifting skyward from Cap Tourmente: It's a snowmobile roaring through a dense forest, and a skier gliding down Mont Sainte-Anne; It's La Grande, Manic II and Bersimis; It's a village steeple pointing toward the heavens, and the gentle chime of the Angelus across a field ripe for harvest...

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