Four days ago, rather then ride to the cemetery on my bicycle, I decided to walk instead. I wasn’t really sure of the route I would take, and so gave myself up to the winds. Neither did I expect to take many photos. But in fact I ended up taking quite a few. Starting with the old bench that sits out front of what was once the post office, but is now a dollar store. Years ago when I was part of a photography group, I used to take loads of pictures of benches. Not sure why, except that I find something visually pleasing about them.
The old bench
Afterwards, I just strolled along Queen Street observing everything I could. I must be regarded as an eccentric by now. I mean, people must see me looking up at the sky, stopping to pluck insects from the sidewalk, or taking photos of benches, and wonder if I am normal. That being the case, I want to assure everyone reading this blog that I am not.
When I finally reached the old Odd Fellows Hall, I noticed the door open. It has been under renovation for some time now, and like other people I have wondered what it will become. As it happens I met the owner of the building walking in, and asked him about it. But he didn’t say. He did mention that the renovations had become a huge undertaking, and that their was much work to be done before it could become anything at all. I am really hoping that it will be something really culturally significant. It’s such a sweet building.
I walked further and took photos of the Streetsville Busines Asdociatiom. It is the building I sometimes refer to as the old Lawn Bowling Center. Which it was. But before that it was the library. Then before that it was something else, and before that something else again. It’s versatile you see. I then crossed the street, cut through St.Andrews cemetery and found myself at the Park. I stopped to take a photo of the swings, which were no longer padlocked. Then I crossed the bridge and made my way to one of my favored spots.
The swings were no longer padlocked.
I crossed the bridge.
There I discovered a large bag of garbage, which a night critter had ripped open and made a mess of. I was angry (at the people who left it behind, not the critter) but managed to clean it all up. A young woman who happened to come by, thanked me. I told her I was glad for her sake. She gave me a big smile, then I felt less angry.
When I reached the River, I removed my sandals, and sat down on one of the large rocks there. It’s a very nice spot to relax, and the waters make pleasant sounds.
Shoes left behind in the park.
The waters make pleasant sounds.
I climbed a short hill and was at the cemetery.
I then took a short cut across the dried up creek, climbed a short hill and was at the cemetery. After I had watered all the flowers, I headed home. I stopped though at the empty lot where Main Street begins, and admired the flowers and the tall grass. It’s so much like a snall meadow.
Four days ago I set out on a journey, that I had been planning for a little while. Since last year, in fact. I wanted to explore the countryside directly north of Streetsville. Following along the River as much as possible, photographing and exploring, and chronicling what was disappearing, and what still remained.
I am very familiar with all of that country. Firstly, as a child when I went for Sunday drives with my family, then later on, when I learned to love and appreciate its scenery and small villages, on my own. Unfortunately, I have watched over the years, as the developers have scooped up land, built houses, and altered its landscape. Increasingly, I have felt the need to memorialize what was left of the past, before their was no more of the past to memorialize.
I had my sister drive me to Queen Street, near Huttonville, which is the most northern point of what I was hoping to write about. My goal was to walk back towards Streetsville. I never believed I would make itall the way, without having to call my sister to pick me up. And I made sure she understood that!
Nearby, where I was dropped off, is an old nursery, now run down and unused. A perfect place to begin. This nursery had been owned by Portuguese, and is where my father would sometimes go to purchase garden stuff. I strolled around the dilapidated property, and looked inside the offices, which had been broken into. It’s pretty clear to me that this large, beautiful piece of land will be developed. The hawk that circled above me, and occasionally cried out, seemed to know it, too.
I left there and crossed the road where another building, like the nursery, was no longer being used. It was also onced owned by Portuguese, and had been a market and a winery. Next to it is a small creek, that I discovered three bright orange goldfish swimming in. An Indian gentleman and his wife happened to come walking along at that exact moment, and saw the goldfish as well. In his broken English the man suggested to me that I should catch them and put them in a tank. I told him, “Better to be free, just like us”, and raised my arm in the air like Braveheart. He smiled and nodded his head in agreement. “Yes”, he said, “free.”
Next, I turned south on Creditview Road, and walked up the laneway of an old farm, intending to ask the owner if I could take photos of the house and barn. The farmer, named Richard, was very obliging and spoke to me at length about the properties history, and the generations of his family who have lived there. While he took a phone call, I freely walked about taking pictures. I did not know he had cattle, and felt it would be tactless to mention that I didn’t eat meat. Across the street from his farm are newer houses. If and when he chooses to sell his farm, their can be little doubt that it will be turned into housing as well. Way far off in the back of his proerty, everything looked as pretty as the English countryside.
Not far away from the farm, and on the same side of the road, I came upon an old apple orchard. I slowly strolled along the rows of trees, making my way towards the house, I could see it tucked far back, almost hidden. My plan was to get permission to take pictures. Then I changed my mind, and slowly strolled back towards the road again. In this way I spent several minutes enjoying the property, without having to bother anyone.
Neighboring the orchard was a pretty white house, which was old, but nicely renovated. I could see as well that it was empty. (The first of several houses I would come across with no one living in them.) In the backyard their were many Coneflowers growing, as well as sunflowers, which I took pictures of.
Just before I reached the sharp bend in the road, I explored one other old house. This one was abandoned and ready to be knocked to the ground. In fact, they had already put a fence across the front, which had a sign with the name of the demolition company on it A section of the fence was fallen down, so I snucked into the backyard, and looked things over. For years I had thought of buying this property, and its tiny house; but now it was all in ruins. I was about to go inside it, when I realized that the floors were not safe, and so contented myself with what I could see of it, through the broken windows.
It was ready for knocking down.
I crossed a white bridge, and came upon some open places . On the right side of the road, their was a swamp, and in the swamp were some water lilies. I did not see many frogs, but I heard them. I crossed over the road and ventured into a field. My hope was to find a short cut to Churchill Road, where I intended to continue my walk. Instead I came up against the river, and some soggy wetlands. In my younger years I would have got myself stuck in the mud, and dirty from head to toe, rather then turn back. As I said though, that was in my younger years. I discovered lots of Purple Loosestrife growing there, and stopped to admire their colorful flowers. I do not believe that they are the monster weed, that we were warned they would become. Though that is only my observation.
In the swamp were some water lilies.
Once I was back on the road, I continued until I reached Steeles Avenue. I was now slightly past the half way point to Streetsville. Their is a very pretty, old brick house there that my father used to admire. I have never been able to get up close to it, but as it appeared no longer lived in, I poked around and took photos. The front facade is lovely. Its very unlikely they would destroy such a nice looking house but one never knows. Once I was done there, I walked east for a little, until I reached Churchill Road.
But before I turned right, I allowed myself to be sidetracked, as I wanted to get a few pictures of the huge Polish Church that was nearby. Out front of it is a fairly large statue of John Paul II. His arm is upraised as if blessing or waving to people, and he is carrying a staff with a crucifix attached.
I allowed myself to be sidetracked.
I finally reached Churchill Village. My family used to come here often in the summer months, to picnic and swim in the River. So, of course, my memories of it are mostly pleasant ones. When I got older, I discovered its cemetery, and have explored it a little. It is much smaller then the one in Streetsville, but possesses more of a country feel. When you first enter it, their is a plaque on your left which commemorates a Mormon community that once existed in those parts. Apparently, Joseph Smith himself had once visited here , and encouraged them to move to Utah. Which they eventually did.
I finally reached Churchill Village.
Amaziah Church is the man whom Churchill took its name from. He is not only buried in the cemetery, but was the very first person they did bury there. I used to visit sometimes just to admire his headstone, which was not a stone at all. It was made of wood, and was cracked down the middle, and had lettering that was nearly illegible. At some point in the last year though, they had replaced it. I didn’t mind all that much, because the new one is more durable, and they re-created the words and the design of the lettering exactly as it had been on the original. Besides, I like to believe that the wooden one will be put on display somewhere, like in a museum.
Churchill cemetery possesses a country feel.
In the village itself their is little to see. A smattering of homes and buildings, the park that we picnicked in when I was young, and little else. Yet, it does possess one very iconic and defining feature. An old green, iron bridge. So narrow that only one car can cross over it at a time. When I was young this bridge fired my imagination for some reason. It just seemed so extraordinary, like out of a picture book. Now, I realize how plain it really is. Yet, it is a strong reminder of another time. I decided that I would end my journey here. So I called my sister and asked her to pick me up.
The old green, iron bridge.
While I waited for my sister, I decided I would go for a swim in the River, for old times sake. That, and because it was hot out. So I emptied my pockets of everything, and dunked myself in the cool water. It was deep, just as I remembered it, and the current was strong. On the opposite side I noticed something painted blue, and some other colours, but couldn’t tell what it was. Curious, I swam to it, and discovered a statue of Lord Ganesh, lying face down in the mud. I dragged him to shore, cleaned him up a little, and admired how fine it looked. I was tempted to take it home with me, but in the end I left him on the grass for someone else to rescue.
I had been wanting to visit Rattlesnake Point for a few weeks, so last Thursday I did. On my way there I stopped to take photos of the old Speyside Gas Station. Just like I did last year. I suppose it’s reached a sort of plateau in terms of a run down, abandoned building, because it looked entirely unchanged.
Afterwards, I drove up and through the escarpment, and eventually found my way to Rattlesnake Point. The young lady working there asked if I had made an appointment, which is part of the new reality since the pandemic. I said no, and could I make one now. She said yes, their were still some openings. So, I made an appointment, and drove to the parking area.
The old Speyside Gas Station.
I parked in the lower area, where I almost never do, hoping it would be less crowded then the upper area. It was, but not by a whole lot. I didn’t mind all the people being there though, as the trails are so vast that the opportunity to be alone with nature is not difficult to do. Speaking of nature, on my way to find a trail, I stumbled upon a couple, both naked and enjoying themselves. I did not wish to intrude, so I turned back, and chose a different way.
I love Rattlesnake Point. I have so many memories of my walks there. I have explored it back and forth, and uncovered lonely, quiet spots, and streams and rocks, and trees and peace. I try and make it out at least twice a year, mostly on my own.
Along the way, I met a young man and woman who told me that their were some Turkey Vultures further along in the direction I was walking. So I kept my eyes opened for them. Eventually, I discovered four perched in a tree, about fifty feet out from the cliffs.
Yesterday morning I rode my bicycle to the cemetery. We had received a fair amount of rainthe day before, and so I didn’t go to water the flowers, but just to check on things, and to get out of the house. The skies were grey, and it occurred to me that it might rain again. Only this time on top of me. When I reached the entrance to the cemetery I stopped to look over the gardens. They are so pretty. I will always be thankful to the City for creating this lovely resting place, and for doing it right. Imprinted in the concrete are angels, which represent infant burials. Many of which are together in one place.
When I reached the top of the hill, I noticed that their was a freshly dug grave awaiting a dead person. But no one was there. Not the mourners, or the grave keepers or the funeral director, or the clergyman. No one. Just an open hole in the earth, and a canopy. I looked it over, which prompted an inner conversation on death. Nearby was a stone with the name BLAKE. It has a carving of Jesus on it, which is exquisite. I was so moved by its artistry, and the look of sadness on Jesus’ face, that it made me think that maybe death is sad.
After I had checked on my mum and dads gravesite, I strolled about trying to observe something new. I felt that if I was to succeed though, I would probably need to cross over the creek, and walk about the south section. So I removed my sandals, leaned my bike against the fence, and got down to the business of observing. I came upon the infant burials, that I mentioned earlier, and counted the number of stones. Their were nine, but apparently their are many more who are buried there, without stones. In the middle their is a small statue of an angel, looking respectfully sullen.
A small statue of an angel, looking respectfully sullen.
After I had sat down on a bench for a short time, it began to rain. A hard rain. So I rode my bike as fast as I could, and found a narrow shelter in the entrance way to St. Josephs Catholic Church. I paced back and forth, and wondered how I would get home in time to be ready for work. Finally, I got tired of pacing and walked out into the rain and took pictures of a statue of Jesus, that sits in a sort of grotto. By the time I returned to my bicycle I was soaked through, and so decided it was hopeless, and that I would just ride home in the rain. Which was quite invigorating, I must say.
I think I miscalculated. I have spent a fair amount of time at the cemetery lately, and have been trying to be cheerful towards the other people I see walking there. Only now some of them want to chat, but the conversations are oddly off balance. It has begun to erode my peacefulness. So I have decided to look mournful, as if I just lost somebody close to me, and hopefully discourage talking.
I don’t mind though placing a flower at a gravesite for someone living in another country. Like I did at Michael Clearys grave. I didn’t know him personally, but I know someone who was his friend, but lives in Ireland now.
Yesterday morning I got on my bike and headed towards the cemetery again. On my way there I encountered a beautiful Rose of Sharon, blooming like crazy. Its doing far better then the ones at my mum and dads gravesite, which now makes me wonder if they need more sunlight. Or maybe I was just too aggressive with my pruning last November. When I reached the cemetery I watered all of the flowers and plants in my care, and took a few random photos.Then I left, as I wanted to get home and go for a walk with the cats.
A beautifulRose of Sharon,that wasblooming like crazy.
Unfortunately, (for the cats that is,) I got a little sidetracked. Firstly, by the old Timothy Street House on Mill Street. It looked to me as if it was no longer being lived in. So I went up close and looked in the windows. I was correct. It was empty. So, I took photos of stuff I never had before. Like the front door, and the backside that is covered in yellow clapboard. I was so pleased. I even took an up close photo of the old camping trailer that sits in the bush.
The backside is covered in yellow clapboard.
When I left there, I got no further then Church and Mill Streets before I stopped again to take more photos. This time of an old house that is genuinely abandoned. One that nearly burnt down a few years ago, and is clearly home to a lot of ghosts. I had wanted to take a picture of the pear tree that sits in its backyard, but the battery on my phone died. Too bad, because someone had stripped the tree of all its pears, and I wanted to show it. In any case, I’m glad the pears were picked.
When I finally reached home, I went upstairs and marshaled three of the cats outdoors. They followed me as far as Branch 134 of the Royal Canadian Legion, but then separated themselves. The boys disappeared into the bushes, while Maribel stuck with me all the way to the old Power Dam. There we both sat down and relaxed.
Two mornings ago I rode my bicycle to the coffee shop for the express purpose of buying a coffee. Afterwards, I carried it with me to the gardens at the old Lawn Bowling Center, sat down, and enjoyed the peacefulness of the moment. All around me were bees, busily doing bee stuff. I think to know contentedness or fulfillment, once must divest the mind from anything that agitates it beyond what is healthy. Then you must focus on only a few things. Just like a bee. In my case, my focus is on my duties when I am at work, and my duties on my leisure days. In between it all, you try to do a little for others, while avoiding the stress of sainthood. Unless, you are a natural born saint, then knock yourself out.
Yesterday morning I rode my bicycle in to town. Along the way I stopped to take some photos of storefronts, including, the fireworks store and the Comic Book store. (Which is owned by a gentleman named Todd, and is in the basement beneath the Pharmacist.) When I reached the coffee shop, I went inside and purchased a coffee, which I carried with me to the old Lawn Bowling Center. There I sat down and and drank it, while being very careful not to spill any on the ants. When I was done there, I walked across the street and took a photo of the Streetsville United Church, which I sent to a few friends.
The Streetsville United Church.
I then rode my bike south on Queen Street, crossed, and took a short cut through theold Highschool. At the top of the hill that overlooks the Park, their was a group of sunflowers, that were too pretty not to admire. So I did. Every year they pop up in the exact same spot, along with some Tiger Lillies. I made my way to the park, and rode along the trail next to the river, and came out at Main Street. I crossed over the Bridge, and then turned right into the cemetery. Near my mother and fathers grave site, I noticed that someone had just been buried. Atop the mound of dirt were dozens of flower arrangements, which I took a photo of, just because of how interesting it looked.
When I left the cemetery, I decided I needed something new to explore, and so I made my way along the Culham Trail and rode all the way to Brittania Road. I then crossed over to the otherside, and took the backstreets until I reached Ray Underhill Public School. I attended there for just one year, back in 1968, and yet, I seem to posses innumerable memories of it. I took photos of the front entrance, as well as the blue doors that I used to enter in and out of in the mornings and at recess, then rode through the playground and the field, and came out behind the Beer Store.
When I got to the gas station, I stopped to take a photo of the big ICE Box. The attendant came out and asked me why I was doing that. I told him no reason really, that I just like taking weird photos. Which, I think, satisfied him, though he seemed to back away from me slowly. Though maybe it was just my imagination.
Three days ago theweather people said that it would thunderstorm all day. My mistake was believing it. Instead of exploring like I should have, I stayed indoors, drank wine and watched movies. But their was no thunderstorm. (At least not until very late in the evening.) The next morning, feeling disgusted with myself for giving in so easily the day before, I rode out on my bicycle determined to make up for it. Of course, I would first need to stop at the cemetery to water the flowers at my mother and fathers gravesite. While there, I noticed that a flower on one of the Rose of Sharon had finally bloomed. Which I took a photo of.
A flower on one of the Rose of Sharon.
From there I rode back to the old Stefflers house, which is no longer lived in, and has no door handle on the front. I took more photos, and actually felt happier with these ones, then the ones I took last time. Then I walked around to the backyard intending to follow the forest to the creek. The grass was thick, and wet from the rain though, and their was a huge and determined colony of mosquitoes, that could easily have drained me of all my blood. On top of all that their was what looked like poison Ivy here and there. So dejected I walked back to my bicycle. I will probably never return again, as I have already trespassed twice, and even I have my limits.
A car seat in the backyard of the Stefflers house.
I continued south on Creditview, and once again turned right at Eglinton. I then sped down the hill, and turned right onto Old Barbertown Road. At the new pedestrian bridge I locked up my bicycle and tried out the trail that winds north along side of the river. I have no memory of it, but its unlikely that I have never explored it before. Unfortunately, it was overgrown with grass. Very wet grass. So I had to retreat again. As consolation for all my disappointment, I rode over to the old McCarthy Mill, and looked around. It seems to me that the massive London Plane is gone. I will need to look deeper in the woods though, to know for sure. Afterwards, I went home.
Yesterday morning I had such an enjoyable time exploring on my bicycle, and taking photos. My goal was to reach the Barber Mansion, (which I had failed to visit a few days ago) and along the way to check in on a few other places. Firstly though, I stopped at the cemetery to water the flowers at my mother and fathers gravesite. When I was finished there I rode eastward towards Carolyn, and checked in with the abandoned house with the apple trees. Their were no signs of developers yet, but obviously it’s just a matter of time before they show up. In the meantime I will continue to visit, and show my appreciation for its history and spirit.
Firstly though, I stopped at the cemetery.
I continued east until I reached Creditview Road, then their was no more east, so I turned right. For some time I have been pondering whether the old Stefflers Residence was still lived in or not. They were a large family, and very Catholic. I went to school with some of the children, who all had beautiful freckles. I walked up to the house, intending to knock on the door, but noticed that their was no door handle. So I went inside and found the house indeed abandoned. It is one of the last of the old Creditview houses, and will no doubt be swallowed up. I took lots of photos, including the backyard with its huge tree. I imagined the family sitting out there in the evenings, and enjoying the summer side of life. What surprised me the most was that at the far end of the property was a small forest, that I assume stretches to the creek. It looked very inviting, but as I was hemmed in for time, and because of all the mosquitoes, decided it would have to wait for for another day to explore. Tomorrow, in fact.
I left there and continued south along Creditview Road, then turned right at Eglinton Avenue. The pathway was recently paved, so I peddaled hard down the hill, like a twelve year old. When I got to old Barbertown Road, I turned right again, as I wanted to see if the Pedestrian bridge which they were renovating last year was reopened. I was excited to find that not only was it reopened, but that they had done a wonderful job! Their were even places to sit and look out at the River, and you could walk beneath the old Barbertown Bridge, as well. Which I did. Hanging from it were ropes that kids use to jump out into the river with. It warmed my heart to know that simple pleasures still existed.
I was now nearing the Barbertown Mansion, but decided that I needed a little rest. So I found some shade from a tree, and ate the apples my sister bought for me. Close-by was a church that I attended many years ago. I reminisced about a petite woman from my Young Adults group, that I had a crush on. She was somewhat plain, but apparently I was even more so, because ultimately she rejected my advances. Which proved good for another six months of romantic set back.
At the corner of Barbertown Road and Mississauga Road I then stopped to look over the Barber Mansion. As I mentioned, a whole section of it had been knocked down, but the most important part of it was still standing. I took some photos, and felt relief that they intend to incorporate it into whatever it is that they are building. Not a perfect solution for a heritage house, but workable. I then turned towards home, but when I got there, I found that my sister had accidentally locked me out of my apartment. So I laid outside on the grass with Charo and waited for her to return.
Yesterday morning I debated whether to walk or take my bicycle. I decided to walk. My goal was to get as far as the Barbertown Mansion, because I noticed they had torn down a section of it, and I was curious to see what was happening up close. Instead, when I reached the Kinsmen Hall, which is in a very old and cherished building here in Streetsville, I got sidetracked.
Eventually though, I was finished there, and so continued south along Queen Street. When I reached the edge of town, I felt drawn towards the Mill. So I made my way along the railway tracks, which these days exposes you to scrutiny by everyone. I understand their are risks, but walking along the tracks, is like comfort food to me. Its beer and spaghetti.
If you continue walking eastward pass the Mill, you eventually come to a bridge, which provides you with wonderful views of the River and the Gorge. It is one of the most beautiful spots in all of Streetsville. Yet is not really that well known. Though each generation of young people have some who discover it, just like I did.
You eventually come to a bridge.
When I was done exploring the Mill, and beyond it, I turned back, concerned that I would not make it home in time to get ready for work. So I retraced my steps towards Queen Street, then slowly walked back towards downtown, taking photos of whatever interested me.(Obviously, the Barbertown Mansion would have to wait for another day.)
A lovely mannequin in the Bridal Store window.
I had told myself earlier that I wouldn’t stop for a coffee, but when I reached the coffee shop, I went in and purchased one anyways. (Mostly because I needed change for laundry.) After I left, and was walking along the sidewalk, it began to rain heavy. So heavy in fact, that I was forced to take shelter in an alley way. It was rather pleasant actually to be stranded without an umbrella.
Once the rain slowed down a bit, I continued homeward. At the Irish Pub, I stopped to take a few photos. It just recently re-opened its patio, which was a welcome sign to many, myself included, that things might return to normal after the outbreak. I crossed the street and took a photo of the back entrance to the Love Shop. For absolutely no reason I could think of.
I was forced to take shelter in an alley way.
The ancient Entrance Sign to Central Plaza. Most of the other ones are either busted, or have been removed.
Yesterday morning Idecided that rather then take thebicycle, that I would walk to thecemetery. I am so glad that I did, because I ended up exploring along the river and had a wonderful time alone. On my way out the door I encountered the Hydro guys who reminded me that the electrical power was to be shut off for a few hours. That didn’t trouble me much. Though I did call an older woman in my building to remind her as well, and to ask if she would be alright without air conditioning. She said she would be. Speaking of air conditioning, I found an a/c unit beside a dumpster.
I took a short cut and ended up on Wyndham Street, where I then cut through the empty lot at the bottom of Main Street. There I discovered that a wide path, more like a swath, had been made, that led across the creek and all the way back into the bush. Now, this bush is what I regard as an untouchable piece of landscape. Meaning that no developer would ever be allowed to build there. Now I’m a bit concerned. I walked along, and followed their swath until I eventually reached the bridge, where I looked over the graffiti. I then walked to the cemetery.
So I walked along, and followed their swath.
At the cemetery I met Mister Pacheco and his two sons watering the flowers. We chatted for a few minutes and they teased me about drinking too much beer. I teased them back, and so goes our normal conversation. Afterwards, I walked down the steep hill to the ravine, but found it thick with grass and weeds. So I retreated, and took the path that leads to the park instead.
When I reached the River I carefully walked along the bank, back towards the Bridge. Their are many large slabs of shalestone that are slanted downward because of all the erosion that has taken place over the years. They are perfect for laying down on. You can just relax and forget about many things. So I found one, and stretched out. In the trees above me, their were Cardinals that flitted about the branches. Their tails were magnificent. After a while I got up and crossed over the creek.
The dried up creek.
I didn’t really wish to go home, so I sat on a large rock and dipped my feet in the River. On the opposite side their was a woman, who was also barefoot, and enjoying the sun and the water. I should have maybe waved to her, but I didn’t. After a while seven geese came paddling against the current. They struggled a little, but eventually they succeeded and floated away.
Seven geese swimming.
From there I walked to the park where I sat down in the lap of three trees. The roots are exposed and look remarkable. The sun shimmered through the branches and I wondered at the futility of life. But I was feeling too cheerful to worry about it just then.
When I left the park, I climbed up the hill that leads to St. Andrews Presbyterian Church, then made my way along Queen Street. When I reached the Thrift Store I went inside. I was so pleased! I found lots of great stuff to put in my apartment! Including a statue of Buddha, and a wonderful picture, which you see below. I also purchased some shirts.
That evening I went back to the Park, where my sister was having a Birthday party for herself. I was so glad that she had chosen the shade from the three Willows that I had sat under earlier in the day. The ones with those remarkable roots!
The weather has been quite hot lately. Including today. This morning I took my bike out and rode it to the coffee shop, where I purchased a coffee. I took the coffee with me to the Streetsville United Church, and sat down under a tree to drink it. The old Lawn Bowling Center is across the street, but it has no shade.
Afterwards, I rode to the cemetery and watered both the flowers at my mother and fathers grave, and Monica Gencels, which is nearby. (Her mother can’t always make it out to water her daughters flowers, so I promised her I would.) I filled the watering cans seven times.
I filled the watering cans seven times.
When I was done I decided to lay down beneath a large Maple and relax. I tried emptying my mind of all anxious and bothersome thoughts and nearly succeeded. For a few moments all I experienced was the warmth of the sun, the breeze, the sound of rustling leaves and an occasional bird chirp. I said a sort of prayer, and luxuriated in a moment of contentment. Then I went home.
I have been experiencing pain in my knees, and so lately I have been walking less, and riding my bicycle instead. This morning I carried it from my apartment down to the street and rode to the bank to deposit some money. Afterwards, I rode to the coffee shop, where I bought a coffee, which I carried to the old Lawn Bowling Centre. I then sat down in the gardens. I like them. The Lupines that I photographed in full bloom last week, were now just stems bearing seed pods, that look like peas. (Which is no surprise as both lupines and peas belong to the legume family.) In any case their were daisies flowering nearby, and so I took a picture of them.
Their was no need for me to go to the cemetery to water the flowers, as it had already rained, and a thunderstorm was expected later on. This left me free to roam. So I crossed the street and leaned my bike against a tree. I then walked around the Streetsville United Church, and looked over the windows, and old bricks.
Behind the Church is a Memory Garden, that has a lovely statue of an angel, which I have already talked about before. Doesn’t she look a bit sleepy?
Doesn’t she look a bit sleepy?
From there I rode my bike South, and crossed the tracks, passing by the Signalmans House. When I reached the old Auto Repair shop, I stopped to give it another look about. All this time I thought they wear planning to tear it down to make way for new houses. But to my surprise, I discovered that they are actually building an addition on to it. So now I’m baffled.
From there I weaved through some of the newer neighborhoods, cut through a park and came out in what is generally called Hillside. Which is a collection of older houses. (By older I mean they were built about 60 or 70 years ago.) I then took a shortcut which leads to a pedestrian bridge, and Mullets Creek. I stopped to watch the ducks, and found myself reminiscing about the ducks I used to see swimming there, when I was in my early twenties. I remember them because I was working at a factory called Dominion Windows at the time, which was nearby. Of course, it was demolished, and now its just a parking lot. (Which is far less interesting.)
I crossed over Thomas Street, and rode along Joymar. When I got to my old Highschool, I parked my bike again, and removed my helmut. Rarely is no one there, or no cars. I felt my opportunity for taking photos had finally come!
My highschool years were not happy ones. I wanted to be accepted by my peers, and so I became the class clown. I was really quite eccentric. Behind the school was where the football field was, and the track. In nice weather I would often sit, leaning against a big blue door (which is still blue) and watch the runners. One day a beautiful girl named Trisha sat down next to me and we chatted. She made me so nervous, because secretly, I was in love with her. Unfortunately, the whole thing ended in my humiliation, which took a little getting over. But that’s a story for another time.
In nice weather I would often sit leaning against a big blue door.
I got back on my bike and made my way through the meighborhoods behind the Highschool. Next, I turned left back on to Joymar, right at Siberry, and then found myself crossing over Mullets Creek again. When I got to Rutledge Road, I stopped to take photos of the pretty vetch, that had flowered since the last time I was there. Then I headed home.
Most of my life I have been an early riser. There was a time when I would regularly get up at 5 am, and begin my day. Often with a walk. Now, its not uncommon for me to lay about until 8 am, or even later. At some point in time, little by little, (almost imperceptibly) I grew lazy.
Twice in the last two days I have had dreams with my father in them. The second one was as I laid in bed yesterday morning, drifting in and out of sleep. When I awoke their was a heavy melancholy all round me, and in me. So I got up, and stumbled about the apartment for a bit. Finally, I ventured outside, collected the cats, and went for a walk. At the Old Power Dam I cheered up, and was fine the rest of the day.
Three nights ago on my way home from work, even though I was tired and had a restless feeling, I forced myself to explore.Not a lot, just a little.Next door to my company is a small marsh, and some Poplar and Sumac. Then next to them is a trucking company that unloads the tankers. I like this small marsh. I also like the old rusted fence around it. I took a few pictures, and admired how the pink and white clover made it look like the countryside.
When I reached the North Plaza, I took a photo of a sign advertising $15 dollar haircuts, which struck me as pretty darn cheap. For some time, at the corner of Brittania and Queen, the old Macs Milk store has been under renovation. Their were signs that said it would be a coffee shop. But when I walked by, those signs were now gone, and the building was for lease again. I cannot guess what it will become now, though I hope it sells old records, and beer. A few doors down from it, I stopped again, this time to take a photo of a sign advertising the psychic. I actually saw her for the first time recently, sitting out front of the house where she works from. I smiled at her and nodded, and when she smiled back, all my thoughts seemed to drain from my head, and I was cast into a spiritual vortex. Not really, but it would have been fascinating if I had been.
I crossed over Queen Street and made my way along William Street, which has a few of the oldest houses in Streetsville. One of them is owned by our local Councilman, whose name is George. Its a real architectural beauty, that I never get bored of taking pictures of. Georges son came out and asked me what I was up to. I answered that I was taking pictures of his house. Which I realized afterwards may have sounded a bit cavalier.A little further on I took a photo of an old garage, that sits near the corner of Ontario and William. It is not an especially attractive garage, but I like its plainness. Once upon a time it was entirely covered in Ivy, that they chopped down, and which then withered and died. But I never understood why they cut it down. It looked magnificent, in my opinion.
It is not an especially attractive garage, but I like its plainness.
Across the street from where I work is a group of buildings that were once a lumberyard and a sort of hardware store. It was there as a young boy, that I first discovered the smell of wood. Eventually, the lumberyard closed, and other businesses took over the location. (Today, its some type of construction company.) Their are few buildings as iconic to Streetsville as those dilapidated old sheds. Sometimes I have wondered though, how they managed to avoid being torn down. Two nights ago, when I was leaving work to walk home, I noticed that their were virtually no cars or trucks parked out front of them, so I crossed over and took pictures.
Afterwards, I headed south towards the town. Parked on the railway tracks, set back away from the road a bit, were two train cars. So I went and looked them over. The sun was just setting and the sky was painted with beautiful colors. A slight feeling of melancholy came over me, but I didn’t pay it much attention.
One year ago today I posted for the first time on this blog. Back then I only had a murky idea as to what it would be about, and in what style I wanted it to be in. Since then, it has evolved in ways I never anticipated, while also retaining its simplicity. I was inspired to start it through watching a documentary called The World Before Your Feet, which is about a young man named Matt Green, who walks the streets of New York City, and writes about his experiences. I decided I wanted to do in a small town, what he has done in a big city. Since then I have emailed him on two occasions, and he has sent me back brief, but encouraging responses. (Thank you Matt!) Well, I cannot think of a better way to celebrate my silly little anniversary, then with another post. So…
Yesterday morning I carried my bicycle downstairs, put my helmet on, and rode to the placewhere I work to hand in some forms. It was my day off, and I was looking forward to exploring the town afterwards. On my way there I discovered that Queen Street was blocked on the North end, because of a train. I watched and waited for it to cross, which took about ten minutes. In the meantime I filmed a short video, partly because I love trains, and partly because I love the sound that the warning bells make.
I love the sound that the warning bells make.
When I was done at work, I rode back in the direction I had come, and turned right at Brittania Road. I then cut through Dolphin Public School (which is such an obscure name for a school, in my opinion), but found it under construction. This forced me to ride down a steep hill. Now, riding down a steep hill on a bike when you are 12 years old, can be an exhilarating experience. When you are 57 years old it can be tense. But by applying all my brakes, and with faith in the law of averages, I made it.
I came out at Rutledge Road, where I stopped to take photos of some Peonies out front of a house where my brother used to live. Their is a kind woman who lives there now, that I sometimes stop and chat with. (Though not in a long time.) In the ditch their were also some Buttercups growing, which are messengers of love. I took a photo of them as well, because of how pretty they looked.
When I reached Ontario Street I stopped again, but this time to take a photo of the railway tracks; which I have done quite possibly a hundred times. Certainly many, many times. I then turned right on to William Street, and rode in the direction of the Central Plaza. Nearby were two elderly Chinese who were playing badminton. I smiled and gave them a thumbs up. Behind the plaza I stopped to look around a little, and take photos. I discovered a raggedy looking shrub growing up out of the concrete, next to a loading area. It was a profound thing.
I took a photo of the railway tracks, which I have done quite possibly a hundred times.
I discovered a raggedy looking shrub growing up out of the concrete next to a loading area.
From there I rode over to Tannery, then turned right on Broadway Street. I wanted to fill up my bike tires with air, so I stopped at the Bicycle Shop. But it was closed. So I continued on andparked my bike at the coffee shop, where I locked it up. I bought a coffee, and carried it across the street where I sat down on some steps and drank it, while watching people walk their dogs. I then rode down Mill Street, where I met an old friend named Gus. He suggested that I should come to church. I told him that I probably will. He said that my mother used to pray the rosary for me, which I didn’t know. After I left him, I then rode over to the cemetery, where I watered the flowers at my mother and fathers gravesite.
Yesterday morning I decided to walk to the cemetery. On my way there I stopped to take some photos of the old Ontario Christian Bookstore, which closed last year. The signage is still up, but will soon be removed I suspect. Next door to it is an Italian Restaurant, which when I was growing up was a Chinese restaurant called Chungkings. Their was a very bald, older Chinese gentleman who worked there, that we used to see walking back and forth to the Beer Store. He was as common a sight as the garbage man. Anyways, their are some daisies growing out front now, which are quite pretty.
Further along another store is preparing to open. Its a Dollarama which is a big, corporate Dollar Store. (Which sounds almost like two incongruous things.) Most every store in Streetsville, was something else when I was growing up. In the case of the Dollarama, the building was once home to the Post Office. The thing I remember most about it, is how the people who worked there, never seemed to smile. That and how they used to toss packages from 10 feet away into a big cart. Which for a small kid, seemed like an ideal job. Out front their is an ancient wooden bench that I swear the Patriarchs must have sat on once. (It will be interesting to see whether it survives the new owners.) I walked around to the old loading docks as well, and took a few photos for posterity.
When I reached Robinsons Pharmacy, I stopped to look over its sign. Yesterday, I mentioned that Streetsville Travel is one of the few businesses in town that existed when I was young. (And even from before I was young.) Robinsons Pharmacy is another. It is where many of the older residents go to have their prescriptions filled, in almost stubborn opposition to the newer drugstore at the Central Plaza. Once their was a beautiful, old fashion yellow sign that hung, where the red, white and blue one does now. But it was wrecked by vandals. Close by is an old building which used to be an antique store, that I use to love going in, but is now an optometrists, which I don’t care to go in. Next to it is an awful looking building with a massage therapist and acupuncturist office. In its basement is Wilson Martial Arts, that you access down a flight of stairs. Then lastly I photographed the old Robinson-Bray House which is to Streetsville history, what London Bridge is to Londons.
Thus ended Phase One of my walk to the Cemetery. Crossing Queen I went inside the coffee shop, and purchased a coffee, which I then carried with me to the old Lawn Bowling Center. (Now the Streetsville Business Association.) There I sat down and enjoyed the gardens they’ve built, and watched the occasional ant. Growing in one of the planters were some pretty pink Lupines. When I was done sitting, I crossed Queen Street again, and took a photo of some Clematis growing up the wall of the Presbyterian Church.
From there I walked down to the park, past the swings, which have all been padlocked together to prevent people from using, and contaminating with the virus. When I reached the River, I debated whether to cross the foot bridge, or to take the gravel path. I chose the path, which brought me out to Main Street. Along the way I encountered what I believe are called Bouncing Bets. A long stem wildflower, that I think of as a harbinger of summer. I crossed over the Main Street Bridge, and then turned right into the cemetery, where I removed my sandals and went barefoot. I believe going barefoot to be one of lifes least expensive pleasures, and one of the things that keeps me most connected to my childhood. But it is also the cause of people staring at me. I have decided though that I would rather go barefoot and be thought a lunatic, then to be shod and considered sane.
At the park the swings have all been padlocked to prevent people from using, and contaminating with virus.
After I was done checking on the flowers at my mother and Fathers gravesite, I started to walk home. I took the path nearest to the River, that brings you to a small bridge, that kids like to write stuff on. Like BE GAY. DO CRIMES, which seems preposterous to me, but I suppose may possess some deep meaning. I made my way along Main Street, stopping only to admire the Peonies out front of the house with the Clock. Then I was done. I know because I always have a done feeling, when I’m done.
Yesterday morning I went for a walk. I left the cats indoors because workmen were expected to come by to remove the old concrete sidewalk. I made my way along Church Street then stopped at Main, to take photos of the the old Cenotaph. In the time I have lived in Streetsville, I have seen it renovated at least twice. The second time was far better then the first time. Now it sits prettily at one end of the Town Square, with a clock at the other end.
Now it sits prettily at one end of the Town Square.
With a clock at the other end.
Afterwards, I crossed over to Queen Street. When I reached El Mariachi, I stopped again to take more photos. Though I have never eaten in the restaurant, I like its bright orange exterior.The curved lamps are a leftover from some ancient time. Next door to it is Streetsville Travel, that has continued to exist after nearly every other business from 50 years ago has ceased to. Not only has it proven to be an entrepreneurial stalwart, but the building itself, though small, is quite old.
Next door to it is Streetsville Travel.
I had heard that the Salvation Army Thrift Store had opened again. So I went there. But it was closed. A gentleman who was standing nearby told me that it would open at 10 am though. So I crossed over to the coffee shop, and bought a coffee, which I then brought back with me to the Thrift Store. I then sat outside on a step, and waited. Then I got up and took a photo of the alleyway. Then sat down again. Finally the store opened. I found a statue of Jesus, holding his robe up at the corner, which seemed peculiar looking, but not peculiar enough to buy. Instead I bought an old LIFE magazine and a pair of shorts.
When I was finally satisfied with my visit to the Thrift Store, I then walked along Mill Street in the direction of the cemetery. (I needed to check on the flowers at my mother and fathers gravesite). Along the way I discovered a pipe sticking out of the ground next to an old building. It said FUEL OIL on its cap, and was padlocked. I pondered what it was used for. Either it was to load oil into a tank for heating, or for the mechanics garage that was there when I was growing up.
Once I was done at the cemetery, I walked back again, though I decided to take a stroll through the park first, before heading home. The stream was nearly completely dry, and so was easy to get across. I stopped to take photos of some old Locust Trees that are among the very last of the ones in the park, that I grew up with. Their are six of them in a circle. A seventh one was cut down years ago, which I suppose was not very lucky.
Once I was done at the cemetery, I walked back again.
From the park I headed back along Church Street towards home. When I reached the old Russell Langmaid Public School I took a photo of a blue heart that someone had spray painted on top of a wall. It reminded me that even when a heart is blue, it is still a pretty thing.
Yesterday morning I walked to the cemetery. Along the way I stopped to look over some of the Wild Roses that have begun to appear everywhere. When I reached Maiden Lane, I noticed that a vine had grown up right inside of a telephone posts wire channel, and was now popping out from the top of it. Such remarkable tenacity!
A vine has grown up right inside the wire channel.
When I reached the empty lot that I spoke about a few days ago, I took a photo of the developers signs. Then I crossed over Main Street and admired all the Locust Trees growing along the bank of the river. They are in full bloom, and you can smell the blossoms from a distance. The scent they give off tends to stir up strong memories in me. Mostly of the summers of my childhood. Its fascinating how our minds bank these smells and keep them connected to certain memories. It would be wonderful to be dying and to smell a flower, or freshly cut grass, and to remember something pleasant.
I walked then to the cemetery and checked on my Mother and Fathers gravesite. I am fairly pleased with everything, though it appears as if the annuals I planted are not rooting yet. But the Ivy is exceeding my expectations. Its growing and creeping along quite nicely. My hope is to keep it pruned, but to allow it to cover the gravestone. Or at least around the base of the gravestone.
The ceramic angel I bought two winters ago at the thrift store, sits nicely installed at the cemetery.
This morning I decided that rather then walk to the cemetery, I would ride my bike. Firstly though I rode to the coffee shop, where I bought a coffee, which I drank while sitting outside on a curb. Afterwards, I rode around the south part of town aimlessly, before turning in the direction of the park. When I arrived at the cemetery I met a Portuguese gentleman and his two sons, who I know well, but had not seen all Winter or Spring. All three of them had beards, which I complimented them on. I showed them the flowers I had planted at my mother and fathers gravesite, and then we walked to the grave of his wife (and their mother.) As we stood there the father made the sign of the cross, which I copied out of respect. Then I left them.
I rode around the south part of town aimlessly.
When I reached home I took my bicycle upstairs to my apartment, and then went back outside with Joseph. He followed me until we encountered a dog, then he ran back. So I turned back as well. In the backyard of the apartment building we both sat down. I watched the wind blowing the tops of the trees, and Joseph watched me.
Last night their was a Thunderstorm. The thunder rolled and rolled. I wanted to stay awake and listen to it, but I fell asleep. In the morning when I looked out my window, I saw that it was still raining, but not hard enough to keep the windows shut. So I opened them. After I fed the cats, and explained to them that they where all going to have to stay inside, I put my running shoes on and went for a walk.
I got my nose right in close, and breathed in its heavenly scent.
Their is a Lilac bush near my apartment that I stopped to admire. I put my nose to it, right up close, and breathed in deeply. Once I was satisfied, I then walked along Church Street, and crossed over on Mill Street towards Queen. Since their were so few people about, I decided it would be a good time to take photos of the downtown. When I reached the coffee shop I went in and bought a coffee, which I carried with me until I found a spot where I could sit down and drink it.
I found a spot along the sidewalk where I could sit down and drink my coffee.
Eventually, I got tired of sitting, and so continued walking towards the south part of town. I took a photo of the Old Streetsville Library, now the Business Association, then crossed the street and took photos of St. Andrews Presbyterian. Or more specifically of the Chestnut Trees that grow in front of it. They were covered in blossoms.
Chestnut Trees must have once been quite popular in Streetsville, because they were planted in front of all the churches, and along Main Street. But the two in front of St. Andrews are practically the only ones left. The others are gone now, victims of a fire and road construction.
⁶ I made my way over to the park where I happened to meet a friend of mine named Julie. We talked for quite a while, but I wanted to visit Culham Trail, and so eventually I said goodbye to her. Along the path I looked for snails that I could help to cross, but found none to help. When I reached the other side of the Main Street bridge, I turned left unto Culham Trail and then left onto a side trail which winds along the River.
I walked along a side trail which winds along the River.
I have been told that their was once another bridge that crossed over the River near Water Street. But the only evidence that their was, are these three concrete footings, (see photos below) that as kids, we used to hang out at. Except for the graffitti, they have renained virtually unchanged.
When I finally turned back, I crossed over Bristol Road, and made my way towards the cemetery. I checked on the Lilac bush that I planted last year at my mother and fathers gravesite, but was a little disappointed to find that it still had not flowered. (Nor is it likely to this year.) I then sat down on a bench and greeted the people who were walking there. I also noticed two fresh graves. In one of them, my friends father, who had passed away recently, was buried in. At another graveside someone had placed a statue of a angel kneeling down, which I took photos of.
On my way home I paid a visit to an empty lot, where there once stood three houses. A sign says that a proposal has been made to develop the lands for townhouses, and that a petition has been made for rezoning, etc. etc. Its grass reminds me of a meadow, and the trees are lovely and mature. I wish they could just go on growing, and fall over on their own.
This morning I drove to the coffee shop and drank coffee. When I got home Charo the Cat came to me and asked if I would like to go for a walk. As I do not like to dissspoint him, I said yes.
First, we headed over to Branch 139 of the Royal Canadian Legion. When we got there I noticed that people had left all of their food garbage on one of the picnic tables. I had no anger left. I was sinking into a hopeless resignation. I gathered up all the trash and placed it in the dumpster.
Charo and I then walked down to the Old Power Dam, and sat on the rocks looking out at the river. Afterwards, we strolled along until we reached the old Dumping Grounds I wrote about last week. (Where my friends and I use to dig for Blue Bottles.)
I saw that their was lots of Nettle in that place, but I didn’t care and stepped through it; even though I was wearing shorts. I immiediatly felt stinging on my legs. But I learned a long time ago that when it comes to Nettle their is one thing you shouldn’t do, and one thing you should. You shouldn’t scratch, and you should ignore the stinging.
Charro followed behind me, but with a little difficulty, because of how tall the grass was. So finally I just carried him. When we got to the top of the hill we started back. At the old Streetsville Hydro Building I stopped, and took more photos of it.
At this point I felt that I still had some walking left in me and so we made our way over to St.Andrews Cemetery. Charro went off and explored, and I did too. Only I always knew where I was, but not always where he was. When we were finally reunited I told him that I was going home.
Yesterday morning I walked over to Branch 139 of the Royal Canadian Legion, with Joseph and Charro following. I noticed that someone had placed a picnic table in our favored spot. Their use to be an older gentleman, who I thought was very grumpy, who would sometimes sit there. But then I heard he had passed away, and left the rest of us to be grumpy without him.
We walked on until we reached the Old Power Dam, where I slipped my sandals off, and stood in the sun. Across the river I could see folks on the Culham Trail stretching, and so I started stretching, too. The cats poked about, or would lay down. The sound of the rippling water and chatting birds was like heaven. Or at least like the kind of heaven I would create.
This morning after buying a coffee, and eating my bagels, I drove over to the cemetery , then walked to my mother and fathers gravesite. I had so hoped to find the Lilac bush flowering, but it was only leafing. As I walked about a little, a wonderful feeling of contentment washed over me, and I felt such a peacefulness in that place. Somehow, I don”t see the cemetery as just a lot of random graves, with dead people in them. To me, it feels more like coming into a community.
The last few mornings I have been more active, and willing to go for walks again. Mostly its been to the River, or to the Royal Canadian Legion, or to the Old Power Dam. Always, with Joseph and Charro. It is fascinating to see how quickly the ravine has turned green. Just a few days of hot weather, and everything begins to reveal its own peculiar life. Leaves, flowers, grass, the tall weeds and vines. Soon it will be difficult to walk anywhere, but along the paths. Then eventually not even along the paths.
How quickly the ravine has turned green.
I have also experienced some beautiful, and peaceful moments in the ravine. Peaceful, though not always very quiet. Their has been a constant chatter of birds, which of course in no way makes things less peaceful. In fact the chatter of birds is peacefulness itself. Off across the River I have heard the sounds of chainsaws as well, which you can hear near the end of the video above. Apparently, the city has been doing some extensive pruning along the Culham Trail. I almost dread checking on them, for fear of what they may have cut down. I especially worry about the tall Oaks which grow in a line along the top of the hill, and have done so probably for over a hundred years. Soon though I will need to investigate, then will report back.
Charro sits with me on a fallen log.
This morning Joseph and Charro came along with me down to the Old Power Dam, and we sat together by the river listening to the gentle sounds of the rapids. Their were many Herons about. Many more then normal it seemed. Nearby, some kids had thrown a large section of plywood into the stream, which caused my heart to droop. I just do not understand littering. Such a puzzling behavior. I was very nearly going to bring the bag I had left hanging on a post some time ago, back with me, as it was very nearly full of trash. But then I noticed that it was teeming with ants, so I let it be. I would certainly not wish to be transported far away from my home, with no chance of ever getting back.
Yesterday morning, I drove to the cemetery to once again check on the Lilac that I planted last year at my mother and fathers gravesite. It is now all bushy with leaves, but without any sign of flowers yet. The Rose of Sharon’s meanwhile have maintained their winter look; though they generally flower later in summer anyways. All in all I am quite pleased with the appearance of things, and hope to plant flowers next week with my sisters help. (Though she does not it yet.)
I wandered about the cemetery checking on other graves, to see how they were looking. I also stopped briefly to examine the tiny creek, which was not creeking much, but was half dried up.
I have mentioned before that a large Maple Tree stands in the near center of the cemeteries older section, which is quite beautifully shaped and provides a dense shade. I have attempted many times to take a photo of it that would capture its loveliness, but have deleted as many as I have taken. But finally yesterday I took one or two that satisfied me.
In the afternoon I walked to the Drugstore and purchased some potato chips, then to the liquor store to buy a 6 pack of beer. On my way back, I dropped by the Thai restaurant, to pick up the rice I had ordered by phone.
As I made my way home I passed by a small tree shrub that has been growing unobtrusively at the corner of Church and Ontario Streets, and has year by year grown more lovely. It is interesting to me how things in nature progress almost silently, yet determinedly. I have no idea how that bush came to grow there, though I doubt very much it was planted. More likely it just sprang up. Someday, someone working for the Public Works Department will decide that it doesn’t need to be there, and with one swift chop, will obliterate it. And I will mourn.
Yesterday morning when I got home from driving my sister to work, I found Joseph and Charo waiting outside for me. I asked them if they would like to go for a walk and they both said yes. So we strolled over to Branch 139 of The Royal Canadian Legion, and stopped at one of our favorite spots; which is an open piece of ground surrounded by trees, that overlooks the ravine and the River. Its really quite pretty.
Then we made our way down to the Old Power Dam, and stood watching the geese and the water, and the morning sun shining on it. I could just barely pull myself away from there. But Joseph and Charo tend to get restless if I loiter for too long in one place.
In Springtime its easier to explore places along the river, that in summer become overgrown with prickly vines and plants with burrs, and tall grass. In fact, it’s already become difficult. So I made my way slowly, and eventually came to a place where a long time ago, people used to toss their garbage and junk over the hill. It was essentially a dump. It has since been covered over with dirt, and trees grow there, including crab apples. When I was young my friends and I used to dig into the side of that hill and we would find old blue bottles, which we would collect. Even today, I still find ancient stuff.
The cats and I finally climbed back up the hill, and came out at Ellen Street. Then we made our way along what was once called the Back Road, but which is now just a concrete pathway, lined with townhouses.Still, its a nice place to walk, and the Locust Trees have somehow survived.
Lately, I have made the old cemetery behind the Trinity Anglican Church part of our regular itinerary. Normally, I will spend sone time reading over the names and dates on the gravestones, while the cats poke about, or chase after birds. (Which I try and discourage them from doing.) On this particular day I also took a photo of a tiny red brick building which is near by, and is a part of Streetsvilles historia electrica. It was being used until not too long ago, but is now just an architectural artifact that they (thankfully) left standing.
I decided it was time for us all to go home. I needed to rest before going to work, and the cats needed to be brought indoors. (I hate having to worry about them.)