Gone, water under the bridge they say as if the event, the person, the feeling is disposed of. But it’s not gone just gone somewhere else. Not disappeared, not effaced, that water just flows away to a river, to the sea, to a new form. It will turn into a cloud and fall, fall somewhere on earth, in a swamp, onto that same sea. The water under the bridge is never gone. It’s always flowing towards the bridge, it’s really “ under the bridge” for a second or so and then it’s flowing away, leaving the bridge behind. It’s in the glass I drink from, in the shower with me, in the water that greens up a lawn, that irrigates my food, that falls over a cliff in a jungle. Wherever I go the “ water under the bridge” is with me.
It was cold today -17 but as you see it was sunny and there was no wind. I had seen a few quirky snow sculptures over the past few weeks but this one was really special!
I don’t know who made them but they are so much fun!
And here is a duck? It sure is encouraging me to walk!
I would love to run into whomever makes them!
It is very cold and last weekend we had quite a lot of snow. In the park near my home the trails are almost deserted. In fact, as long as there is no wind it is lovely to walk in the brilliant sunshine. At noon it is about -15 and I got quite hot marching around the lake with my hiking poles. I am trying to train a bit. If Covid dies down I might try the Portuguese Camino. Got to keep moving!
The sun is brilliant but determined to leave the party early. In the big city park, deserted on Monday afternoon the sun sits bright and brilliant as he prepares to leave. Having discovered the thrill of feeding wild birds by hand I dropped by a couple of likely spots. The boys were a little quarrelsome today, chasing each other off.
I had a little competition too as there are some brilliant red sumac berries available to birds. They have a velvety texture that I love. It was quite cold and I suppose some of the normally cheeky chic a dees were already hunkered down for the evening.
The clouds were lovely, dark above and lit by the sulky sun from below. By the time I turned and went home they were pink and yellow. In summer it can be very hot at the end of the afternoon but that is now a faint memory. It will be a lot colder tomorrow and the little birds will have to stick to red berries. My bare hands just can’t take low temperatures and wind. I’ll be back on Wednesday. The sun may be in charge but the wind gives him a run for his money.
These two friends were standing in the picture- book snow, their hands outstretched , birdseed on their palms, waiting for tiny finches to come down and take what was offered.
Once again it was a struggle to force myself to go and walk. Instead of my usual track park. I decided to go to Angrignon Park. It is closer in and with huge snowflakes drifting down in a thick veil, it was a paradise for cross-country skiers and devoted dog walkers. I figured if I walked around the big lake a couple of times it would make up about an hour of exercise. I took my walking poles and it was a good thing as the snow was already thick underfoot.
I was fascinated to see the little finches come down to feed from the hands of these patient bird lovers. I arrived just as they were leaving and I called out to ask if they had had to wait long for the birds to come.
“Oh,no. It’s easy to attract them. They know people come here to feed them. We just saw two big cardinals too. Beautiful! “ I guess I must have looked like a bird-feeder wanna-be as one of the men pulled out a little container of seed and poured some into my hand.
“Go on,” he said. they don’t care who gives them the seed.” He and his friend walked off into the thick snow and there I was with a handful of birdseed.
And down they flew, one after the other. Their little claws wrapped around my fingers and the boldest of them stopped to pick up two or three seeds. One, a little smaller than the others, made a few timid passes and I thought he would never pluck up the courage to take a seed. Finally he did, however, and then his wings whirring, he retreated to the safety of the bushes.
My hand became very cold and after a few moments the little finches disappeared. I have had a few unexpected lovely moments with birds over the past few days. I wonder why.
January 5th was a gloomy day. It is hard to be motivated to do anything in the flat short days after Christmas and New Year. I really was trying to persuade myself that I would go for the first walk in the park that would mark the beginning of the preparation for my next Camino. No use! Everything served as an excuse not to go out. Suddenly in the tree outside my window I noticed a fat robin. What really raised my spirits was the sight of his mate.
I don’t know why or how I decided who was he…and who was she….but somehow I did. I love robins for their confidence in human beings, for their beautiful fluting song in spring, for their quick run along the ground. These seemed very big to me and for a few moments I had my doubts but when one finally flew off and darted along a bare patch of grass close to a neighboring building he confirmed that he was indeed a robin. Some of these birds migrate but if there are enough berries around, some will stay, particularly in well-wooded areas. My “new” condo is close to one of the biggest parks in Montreal and this year, my neighbors tell me, for the first time wild turkeys appeared in the fall. If it’s good enough for turkeys, I guess robins can survive too.
It was such a hopeful thing to see that I finally pulled on my boots and made it to another park that was the site of my training for my last Camino, the Frances. That took place in September and October of 2021 and, like many, I became a Camino junkie. I watch lots of You Tube posts about the other routes. I was almost decided on the Portugese which is mainly costal and a lot flatter than the Camino Frances. However, I recently stumbled (sorry) on information about the LePuy route that is completely in France. It was developed by the French Hikers’ Association and so avoids all big towns. In the beginning it too is hilly and challenging but what appeals to me is the path through tiny medieval villages and the open wild feel of it.
Well, whichever one I choose, I will need to get moving again and say bye bye to the few pounds I picked up over the holidays. Back to the track I go and thanks to my red-breasted friends I did get motivated and did a measly five laps around the track. I could not climb up the toboggan hill as it was full of kids on their new sleds. No need to get bowled over, after all!
Thank you, robins. I looked up their symbolic meaning too and I am quite happy to adopt them as my “spirit animal”. Now, if only I could sing as well as they do. Another thing to work on in 2022. Happy New Year all of you.
I like Boxing Day. There’s a relaxed feel to it that suits me. Walking through the park close to my home I noticed a group of turkeys. This is the first year I’ve seen in our park. It’s a true city park and I really wonder how they came here. There are big boulevards that surround it so I can’t imagine them crossing over. Two true city dogs were looking at them without even barking or tugging at the leash. I certainly wasn’t going to get too close. I preferred the company of this guard cat, sitting up on the parapet of the pond.
These are examples of what to say when you see the new paint job that I did all by myself. The word “why “ is to be avoided at all costs. This is why:
Oh, and note that the paint spots are on brown paper which I carefully put down to protect the ( charcoal grey) floor.
So, “ Why” in regard to my not liking grey, choosing pale pink, the texture of the paint, the technique, random smudges or any other issue is a word you should use very carefully.
I would welcome it in any reaction such as , “ Why didn’t I know you were such a great decorator? “ or “ Why don’t you come over and advise me on my color scheme?” Just remember psychology 101 when they taught you that every question is a challenge.
Best to stick to exclamations of admiration and praising my skill. Now, the unfinished part of my project is …ta da! Turning my grotesque bathtub into a greenhouse. Call it an urban spa, call it a great way of getting plants out of my way, call it just Isobel’s decorator eye. As soon as my grow lights go up you can call me Tarzana!
And it’s beautiful. Close to my home is a large park. Today as I walked through to go to the Metro I noticed that the pond was starting to freeze over. The reflection of the few leaves left on the trees will soon disappear but the sky was still lovely. After a dark and dreary day, the clouds lightened up and colour from the coming sunset softened the mood. The Canada geese have left and the fat squirrels are almost manic in their search for food for winter. I confess to hating squirrels, a hold-over from my gardening days when they were my mortal enemies.
I went to my volunteer English conversation class today. I had a chance to walk through a city neighbourhood where our family used to live. In fact, from my bedroom window my husband and I could see the bell tower rising over our flat. This church is one of a couple of Byzantine revivals built in the early twentieth century. It’s a magnificent building. The cold air made me take notice of my surroundings as I walked after class to get myCovid booster shot. I had my flu shot last week so this pincushion is ready for the onslaught of winter. Bring it on!