#hazel lacroix

Bash’s first winter in Avonlea had not been one he enjoyed. It was cold. There was white, wet muck falling from the sky all the time. The sun hid behind clouds for three months straight and the only flavoring for miles was salt. Blythe was totally unsympathetic to his plight. The only good things about that first winter, in Bash’s opinion, was Mary and his first Christmas dinner, in that order. 

When Bash’s second year came around, he thought he was prepared. He pulled out the blankets. He chopped twice the amount of wood in the fall so that they could have a fire going all winter. He hid the salt from Blythe and banned him from the kitchen (an action whole-heartedly supported by Mary). 

“Your god-cursed Canadian winter is not getting the best of me this year,” he swore vigorously when Gilbert asked if Bash was planning to build a second house with all the wood. “I know what’s comin’ this time.” 

Bash’s preparations were not a day too early. The first flurries arrived in November. Mary and Gilbert both treated this as if it were some miraculous thing, leaping out of their seats at the first snowflake and staring out the window. 

Bash, like the sensible man he was, glared out the window. The snow was his enemy, and he would not forget it. Who on God’s great earth could like something that hid all the bright colors of the sky and ground? Pure nonsense. 

For a few weeks, there were only flurries. Then, as Gilbert and Bash were making their way back from town, the skies clouded over and snow began to fall thickly, blanketing Avonlea. Within minutes, it felt like it was three inches deep. Bash swore he could feel icicles forming off of his nose. 

They were still a few miles from the house, so Bash pressed forward as quickly as he could, determined to get home before they froze to death. 

“Bash, wait,” Gilbert laughed from behind. The idiot mook was grinning up at the sky as if he had never seen snow before, stretching out his hands to catch the snowflakes. “Try it!” He called out. 

“Are you kidding Blythe?” Bash said incredulously. “We’re in the middle of a blizzard and you want to stop and feel the snowflakes?” 

“This isn’t a blizzard,” Gilbert scoffed. “The snow is falling too slowly for that, and there’s not enough wind.” 

Bash stared at him. He had always been told a blizzard was when a lot of snow fell from the sky. When Bash saw his first snowstorm, he had assumed that that was it. After all, how could snow possible fall more? 

“It can get worse?” 

Mary was just as unsympathetic as Gilbert when she learned of Bash’s confusion. In fact, Mary and Gilbert began to team up to tease him whenever they caught Bash shivering or looking out the winter dolefully. It was an absolute betrayal that Bash was certain would not have taken place were it not for the existence of winter. 

Bash witnessed a real blizzard that year. He did not enjoy it. To make matters worse, his carefully procured stash of blankets were pilfered from him one by one. 

“But Mary, I’m freezing,” Bash pleaded when she took yet another one from his pile. He was down to only three now, all atop him like a strange circus tent. Gilbert snickered from his armchair. Like a true nutter, he didn’t have any blankets on him at all. 

“I’m from Trinidad, Mary, I need the blankets.” 

“And I’m pregnant,” Mary responded. Which, there was not much Bash could argue with that. Balefully, he let her steal another blanket. 

Really, the only good thing about that winter was the birth of Dellie. Bash found he couldn’t hate the snow quite as much when he remembered how the soft, freshly fallen snow around him when he had held his daughter for the first time. 

For his third Canadian winter, Bash had manfully committed to gritting his teeth through the season in silence. He had two years under his belt now, after all, and he was beginning to acclimate at last to the colder temperatures of the north. Besides, he had already given Blythe two years of ammunition, and he didn’t want Elijah to join in. This year, he was determined not to give either of the two young men the satisfaction. 

They had already had several snowfalls by the time Gilbert returned from his first term in Toronto. Elijah had born the seasonal change with ease, and Dellie laughed every time she saw a snowflake. Gilbert’s homecoming coincided with a winter storm, and his teeth were chattering when Bash met him at the train station. 

“Cold, Blythe?” Bash asked smugly. His own teeth were chattering too, but Bash ignored that. 

Gilbert’s exchange with Eljah was stilted yet polite, but he greeted Hazel with a warm smile and hug. 

“How are you finding your first Canadian winter, Hazel?” Gilbert asked politely, bending down to tweak a squealing Dellie’s nose. 

Bash’s mother than did something he hadn’t seen her do in all of his years. 

She pulled a face of disgust. 

“In all honesty, Mist- Gilbert- the weather here is ridiculous. Who lives here in such cold!? Likely to freeze your blood and your brain in such weather. And there’s no sun! Who ever heard of living somewhere where the sun disappears behind clouds for months?” 

Gilbert cast an amused look back to where Bash stood staring at his mother like he had just witnessed the second coming. 

Bash was very busy trying to process two previously impossible thoughts. 

Number one, for the first time in his life, he agreed whole heartedly with his mother on something. 

And number two, he had an ally against this ridiculous weather! He wasn’t outnumber by fool hardy Canadians!

Which meant he could begin complaining again. “It’s total nonsense, I’ve been telling Blythe for years,” Bash said, shaking his head. “I don’t understand it. And this isn’t even the worst! There’s blizzards,” he shuddered. 

Hazel gave him a horrified look. “It gets colder?” 

Bash nodded solemnly. 

“You can’t raise a child like this! It can’t be good for it’s health!” 

Gilbert and Elijah both protested at that, being of Canadian stock. Bash left them to it, whistling happily to his daughter as he began pulling out extra blankets.  “Sebastian! We need more wood! Immediately! Apparently this lasts for months!”

... and Anne goes "Well, can you tell him- that's silly... I should tell him...a note! I'll write him a note!"

I keep thinking about how if she instead just said "well can you tell him... I... I love him?"

And Mrs. LaCroix is like "???? White people be like??" But just nods and Anne goes back home.

And Gilbert comes home from his "How Much I Love Anne Shirley-Cuthbert" Circle Island Tour late and sneaks up to his room with dinner because Bash and Hazel are fighting, so she doesn't get to tell him until the next morning.

But she sets down the breakfast plate before Gilbert and says, "Mr. Gilbert, there was a young lady here for you yesterday, red hair?"

Gilbert "Heart-Eyes" Blythe stops eating and says, "Anne?" Bash at this point is watching with vested interest...

To which Mrs. LaCoix, back turned to him, focused on the food she's cooking on the stove, continues with, "Yes, she asked me to tell you she loves you"

It was the color of the flowers at her wedding

It is the color of the curtains in her room

And the color of the extra fabric that they had from Delphine’s curtains that they decide to use for the easter kite

And i think this is why Bash knits Delphine’s booties with yellow yarn

So that Delphine is always wearing her mother’s favorite color

I see work has been in full swing on the ship and our two honorary brothers have reached Trinidad, Bash’s homeland. I love Gilbert’s instant fascination with it and its smells. 

“I like potatoes”... Gilbert must be the whitest of white guys I’ve ever seen, and I can say that because I’m a white girl who also happens to love potatoes in any shape and form. Also, I haven’t tasted a hot pepper in my life either, and I don’t think of starting now. To each their own, I say. 

Gilbert is painfully uneducated about black slavery, but I’m glad to see he’s eager to learn and correct himself. 

Wait, was that the first ever cold open not to feature Avonlea at all? it seems it was. That was kind of weird.

Nate smokes, too? Well, that’s the least of his vices. Also, “don’t have an expert eye”? I bet there’s no gold at all in that sample. 

Marilla is once again the only sensible person here. She’s right for the wrong reasons, but he’s right anyway. 

Wait, Anne is getting a new slate just now? Wasn’t it over a year ago that she broke her old one? And “defending herself”- from whom? Gilbert? I’d much have preferred to see her smash something into Billy Andrews’ head. 

Well, leave it to Diana to remind Anne how much she really is worth. I believe she played a crucial part of making Anne the activist she became in season 3. 

I love Jerry’s smile so much and I absolutely hate seeing it fade away at the sight of Nate. This fraud must pay for all the harm he’s done and is going to do, both financial and emotional. 

Wait, is this... can it be... it is. It’s really Cole. I’m so glad to finally see him again. But is this a plot hole - how can Anne know him if he definitely wasn’t there last year?

Shut your filthy mouth, Billy! Name-calling is so immature, and he’s obviously jealous of Cole who doesn’t need to be rude to prove his worth. Billy fully deserves what Cole does to him later after he finally snaps. 

Billy is just a horrible, horrible person. And what does Philips want? First of all, what Cole is doing is too brilliant to be brought down to “doodling”, and second of all, I myself sometimes draw in class instead of taking  notes, and it hasn’t once affected my marks. In fact, it sort of helps me remember better. 

“Draw that.” I love how literally Cole takes the words literally. Also, excellent calligraphy. Bullet journalists have nothing on this guy. And Philips can only dream of having such perfect penmanship. Internalised homophobia is a [no swearing on main]... curse. He’s just jealous that Cole can be so unapologetically himself, while he won’t dare to and prefers to bully literal children instead. 

There she is... Hazel Lacroix in all of her matronly glory. It just breaks my heart how slavery has affected her mindset. And that boy looking like “a wet fowl” (love this simile, btw) - she’ll come to call him Mr. Blythe, and that breaks my heart, too. He’s a friend and a brother, not another white guy who will treat her like an object. 

No, Gilbert, slavery has sadly not ended yet, and in some places it’s very much a thing even today, in the 21st century. This is the painful reality and something must be done about it. Kudos to AWAE for raising awareness of this very real and important issue, among many others. #renewannewithane

Is this because of Nate’s stupid compliments? Marilla experimenting with her hairstyle, I mean. She’s falling into his trap, too, and I really don’t like it. 

It’s awkward that Josie should, as the girls suggest, have a thing for Cole, since she moves on to the polar opposite, Billy. But then again, so does Ruby, doesn’t she? 

I love seeing Jerry’s writing and reading progress. It’s like when I watched my little brother grow up in front of my eyes. And I’m so glad he’s making this effort for his own sake. Jerry is an icon and that’s that on that. 

In a brilliant adaptation of that beautifully frightening scene from the book that is a cautionary tale about letting your imagination get the best of you, Anne is battling her own fancies on her way through the woods. This is just as chilling as the book’s version, and even a bit more. 

Hey, there’s the fox. I don’t remember exactly why it was important, but I do remember Billy hunting it. We’ll have to wait and see.

Dunlop might not be the bad guy here, it’s likely just Nate. I mean, he wouldn’t just give her a fancy pen... wait, is it the pen? Things just got way too curious. 

Ok, now I want to be at this party. I usually run away from any gathering of more than 10 people, but this is lovely. And I’m in love with Diana and Dunlop’s performance.

Practically part of the family? Jerry, yes. Nate, big NO. I mean, nobody was talking about Jerry, but I am and that’s that. 

Minnie May always knows what’s up. Kicking Nate in the shins, what an eloquent and brilliant move. I loved seeing that. 

I mean, Marilla is right, but what’s not real isn’t always not good. And what’s real isn’t always good. That’s important to remember. Moderation is key. 

“Thomas Lynde never makes decisions without consulting Rachel.” I mean, he’s kind of under her thumb, but once again, moderation is key. 

“There’s this girl over in Avonlea”... someone’s in love, and Bash is about to become captain of the Shirbert ship. I love this. 

Aww, Cole is using the stains on his sketchbook to draw Anne’s freckles. i love it. I love it so much, but I can’t help feeling sorry for all the damage that ink did to the sketchbook. Pages upon pages wasted because of stupid Billy... and even though I find it charming, I also feel bad for the drawing of Camelot. 

And so the Shirbert written correspondence continues... with the pen this time. but alas... another ink stain. Those are such a nuisance. I’m glad we don’t need to worry about them so much anymore nowadays.