Waiting for Weather

“To see the world in a grain of sand

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.”

from “Auguries of Innocence” William Blake

After a typical Canadian winter, by late March I was starved for close contact with the outdoors. Read a succession of short connected posts as I walk towards spring.

March 22 I was out for a long walk today; it is 8 degrees and sunny. As I made my way along the shore of Lake Ontario I could see huge slabs of blue white ice piled up against the shore, the open water shimmering in the sunshine and the elegant silhouettes of the new windmills on Wolfe
Island, and I was reminded that we live in a very beautiful corner of the earth.

I had several encounters with couples walking enthusiastic dogs, ‘Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. Walk!’ they were saying with their big grins and wagging tails — if we could always live life with the simple exuberance of those four-legged creatures, we would be so much happier and the world would be a better place by far.

And that’s my sunny thought for the day.

March 29 I’m the luckiest girl in the world… or so I keep telling myself. This morning’s walk had a completely different feel than last week’s.

It was grey, neither cold nor warm, and very damp. Along the shore I noticed the slabs of ice were all but gone, and Wolfe Island was just a long grey smudge along the horizon. No happy couples with happy dogs, just a lone old man with his sedate orange and white Alsatian. We smiled at one another in a dignified manner, but the old man ignored me.

A block or two inland I was greeted by a chorale of song birds, the smell of wet earth, and the sound of water trickling into the gutters. This was more like it! A perky grey squirrel offered percussion from the branch of a pine tree. Then, the basso profundo of a dynamite explosion … wait a minute, how does dynamite fit into this idyll?

“People, could you please hold off on the dynamite fx? You’re at least sixteen bars early… yes, we’re just doing the bird and squirrel chorale now. Yup… I’ll give you the signal.”

And so, home.

Now, why am I lucky? you ask. Well, for one thing I found a penny on the cement just outside my apartment building. Lucky event number one. For another, shortly after I got into my apartment the continuing  barrage of dynamite sounds was suddenly accompanied by … hmmmm… lightning. Within minutes, the thunder and lightning coalesced into a deluge of rain. And I was warm and dry and invigorated on the right side of the window. Lucky moment number two. Finally, I am aware of an overarching sense of luckiness. I have the freedom and strength to walk where I will, to feel the wind on my face and allow nature to feed my soul.

April 6 The incentive was high today to get outside; after yesterday’s high winds, cold temperatures, and little white pellets passing themselves off as snow, today is still breezy but brilliantly sunny. Spring has been coquettish, a bit of a tease this year, and it seems wise to me to get what you can, when it’s offered!

I took a similar path to my previous walks, winding through Queen’s campus toward the lake. The air was clear; the windmills on Wolfe Island seemed so close I felt as though I could reach out and pluck one, like a child’s pinwheel. Taking her cue from spring, the lake today was flirtatious, flashing bits of white petticoat where the sun touched her. A mallard husband and wife paddled close to shore, their nerveless feet apparently not bothered by what must be numbingly cold water.

For the first time I noticed a bronze lion in the park, gazing steadfastly out toward the water. It was a bit nerve-wracking when I passed into his line of vision, but he never broke his pose, and I escaped  what might have been a dangerous encounter.

I turned away from the water and found signs of spring in abundance; as I passed by, a grey squirrel broke off from his excavation in the mud — something top-secret, I imagine —  and kept me under surveillance until I’d gone by.

There are now little lakes of blue scilla, some late snow drops, the daffodils are clumped like onion setts, and the tulip leaves curl bravely out of the earth. The Virginia creeper is creeping, the periwinkle winkling, and the euonymus … well, doing whatever euonymus does best, I suppose.

Since I seemed to have worked up an appetite I turned for home and the kitchen. This is not an abandonment, just a hiatus. I will be excited to see what might have changed by next week.

Promises, promises. A longer hiatus than expected. Several rounds of winter illness, plus ridiculous busyness with rehearsing a play and other obligations. On an intellectual level I subscribe to the precepts of the slow movement. (read In Praise of Slow by Carl Honoré www.carlhonore.com) but am so far unable to commit. I like to think I’m headed in the direction of slowness, of appreciation for something done mindfully and well. The unperturbed and stately pace of the changing season helps to remind me that slow can beautiful.

Photo courtesy Karen Bell

June 10 Magnolias have come and gone. Flowering fruit trees and lilacs have perfumed every breeze for weeks. But now, bridal wreath spirea has taken centre stage in my neighbourhood, reminding me of cancan dancers or showgirls in a kick line rather than any demure bride. Tulips have enjoyed an unusually long pre-eminence in the spring gardens this year, thanks to the continuing cool temperatures. They’re joined now by clumps of irises in the most complex, rich shades of purple, bronze, and gold. On my way through city park, I am drawn to examine the blossoms of a chestnut tree. What looks from a distance like an undefined cluster of pale pink or white, when seen close to is a tight bunch of shockingly exotic miniatures, with white frills and fruit-coloured throats in raspberry, grapefruit and lemon. They remind me of sugar-dusted English pastilles nestled in a tin, good enough to eat.

Behind the county courthouse that presides at the head of the park, a city police officer has just offloaded her mount, a handsome bay, from a horse trailer. While she checks the girth for tightness and adjusts the stirrups, the horse looks around with interest, ears pricked and nostrils flared to pick up scents. Sights, sounds, smells in abundance! And I think, imagine what we can experience when we come out of our box with senses awakened. We sure to find ourselves someplace completely different! For me, that’s the precious possibility that a walk, even in the cultivated tameness of a city park, can offer.