My Watermark is Hudson Bay, Quebec.

It was Jean Baptiste’s day. As it is customary across Quebec, we were preparing a bonfire to celebrate. We headed toward the beach as the sun was low in the sky. Once the fire was set and crackling, we walked to the end of the water. The ice on Hudson's Bay had started to melt a few weeks ago, huge chunks of ice were scattered on the sand, and on the water.

A few of us, we decided to wade out into the water. We stripped down to our underwear and stepped in. It was bone chilling. Some of the boys started screaming but I stayed quiet. The water reached my waist before I was able to slid out, onto the ice island. I was careful where I stepped because by then my feet felt like frozen slabs of meat, and I didn’t want to cut them.

When I had arrived, months ago, the bay and the land were one, and you could not tell where one began and the other one ended. Now as the temperature was warming the landscape felt completely different. The sun was setting much later than ever before, and there skies were never completely dark. It was a beautiful evening and thankfully the warmth of the fire wasn’t far off.