I’m guessing this morning’s walk was a lot more fun for the dog than it was for me. I’m not saying that a 45 minute jaunt down to the Whitemud Creek isn’t amusing, but it’s not a wallow in a mud hole, which is how Maggie chose to spend part of her walk. She loves this particular hole, which is somewhat hidden, and very often mud or water-filled, depending on recent precipitation. Maggie was as close to smiling as she ever gets (this side of a dropped salami.) After a shampoo in the backyard, she is now relatively clean and snoozing on a mat. I’m contemplating a much longer walk tomorrow. No mud holes.
This post belongs to yesterday, but I ran out of time. Or something. I’ve not packed in a lot in since my voluntary severance last Thursday. I watched the first season of the Bionic Woman, and bought a stack of classic novels. That’s about it. Walking, yes. Always.
Full frontal hare
So, yesterday. I took the train downtown, and walked through Louise McKinney, the Muttart, and Mill Creek Ravine. The trifecta of river valley perfection. As often happens, I wandered off the path a few times and was rewarded by beauty…and a surprise guest. At the Muttart, I stepped over to the flower beds and started taking pictures of the sunflowers. I love these big-faced flowers. Strong and confident in their gorgeousness. No secret parts. No fiddly bits. Pure openness. Taking what turned out to be a tragically blurred photo of a huge honey bee in a sunflower, I was startled by a giant hare. He hopped out of the flowerbed a few feet from me, but was oblivious to my presence long enough to grab a few shots. They’re crazy buggers, those hares. Their eyes are wild. The incredible things that present themselves to me while I’m walking never fails to amaze me. And the hare was just the beginning…
Yes sir, I’ll back away, sir
Carrying on up the hill, I was forced to detour because of the Folk Fest fencing, extending much farther than usual this year. In Mill Creek, I could feel the relaxation settling in. Not that I was tense…it’s just one of my favourite places on earth, and its familiarity and sensual gifts have a physical, spiritual effect on my body. I try to keep a fast pace, but the woods always slow my gait, as does my right foot, which was starting to throb. Apparently, the peaceful setting has no effect from the ankle down. I’ve self-diagnosed myself with plantar’s fasciitis, or…sore feet. Something to do with inflammation, which may or may not be related to poor eating (thank you southern Ontario vacation and…um…the last six months.) I was going to walk the south and middle loop, but decided to cut out early, near the pool.
As I was ascending the steps, a guy with a huge dog said, ‘Did you see the kitten?’ I replied no, so he told me to walk around the bush to my left. And…there it was, a tiny black & white kitty with gummy eyes, mewing in the greenery. He said he tried to get it out, but his dog was scaring it. So, I said I would lure the kitten out, and take the poor thing to the vet’s on 99th. Half an hour later, a half hour filled with meowing, whistling, and a great many ‘here kitty’s’, not to mention various bodily contortions, the cat was still not in my possession. He’d run out a few times, but was too fast for me to catch. As I was meowing at the bush, a man and a woman walked toward the same area I was kneeling, with a carton of milk and a can of sardines. Apparently, they’d tried the same thing, to no avail, so they’d gone to the store in search of food. Kind people!
The sardine trick worked, and the little kitten came out. The guy was able to reach in and grab the kitten quickly enough to catch it, but the cat went crazy. It was like a tiny, furry, and very loud blender on the end of his hand, which was suddenly lined with rivulets of blood. The guy tried, he really did, but the kitten was clearly feral. Probably an offspring of one of the many ravine cats populating the area. He had to almost flatten the kitten to the ground to keep it from leaping at him as he released his grip. His hand was a mess. In the understatement of the year, I said, ‘You should probably clean that’, but I was really thinking that there was going to be an IV drip in his near future. The woman said, ‘Do you think the cat was sick?’, and I replied, remembering the encrusted eyes, ‘Hard to say. It’s a ravine cat. Maybe it was just dirty.’ Yeah, maybe. In any case, the kitten was furnished with a delicious meal, probably one of his last, since he was way too wild to attempt a second rescue, and the realization that the only thing that outnumbered the ravine cats was the ravine coyotes. The circle of life, I guess. It was distressing not to be able to help the kitty, but as I watched the man mop up the blood running down his arm, I said a silent thank you for being just a little less agile than this guy, cause if I had caught that cat, it would be me hooked up to the IV. Sometimes, a lack of athleticism is a good thing.
Nothing that followed matched the drama of the previous hour. It was humid, and I was sweaty and my foot was killing me, but it was a certainly a memorable walk.
Short walk today under clouds. I don’t feel cloudy, but the sky does. The cooler weather is good for the dog anyway. She’s slowing down. I can’t rely on her anymore to take me for long, vigourous walks, so I’ll have to take myself. Now that I’ve voluntarily severed myself from my day job, it should be much easier to go for extended walks (while I’m still in the ‘burbs.) Six months should be enough to recalibrate. Too much stress, too many Mars Bars, not enough walking. It’s done a number, and now that Maggie is abstaining from ravine/river valley marathons, I’m on my own. OK, then…
Hairy plant in the garden
Not much happening in the ravine today. A few dogs (lab, pug), but otherwise pretty quiet. All the activity is in the garden.
And out with my buddy, Maggie, for a walk this morning in the Whitemud Creek. Surprised we didn’t get rained on. The clouds are heavy with some sort of pending drama, but after the last couple of weeks, refreshingly cool. I was in our nation’s capital and parts of southern Ontario for a vacation with my bestie.
Good thing I was walking lots ’cause these things are wicked
It was spectacular, but hot and humid. The two and a half days I was in Ottawa, the temperature was in the low thirties, and the humidity pushed it to 40. And I was on foot. Situated in Byward Market, I didn’t have far to walk to everything I wanted to see, but distance becomes relative in extreme temperatures, hot or cold. I walked twenty-five minutes to the Canadian War Museum and by the time I got there, I was so hot I was ready to start a war (or at least a melee).
Maman, by Louise Bourgeois. The National Gallery of Canada greeter
Other than the humidity, the city was spectacular. I loved it. I loved being able to walk to restaurants and fruit stands. I loved walking to Parliament in the morning and watching the changing of the guard (those poor buggers in fur hats), and taking a tour through the incredibly beautiful interior of the centre block building and the peace tower. I loved walking to the National Gallery of Canada, and then spending four hours walking around inside (in air-conditioning), staring in awe at Lawren Harris’ incredible canvases. I felt no ire for the Voice of Fire by Barnett Newman, but the modernist stuff was blown-out-of-the-water by the Group of Seven. It was an amazing mini-trip, in spite of the second-degree burns.
My feet in Lake Ontario (with Mickey Mouse band aid)
Port Hope and Sauble Beach (Lake Huron), were also amazing, but with fewer walks and more lounging, by the pool, or by the stunningly beautiful Sauble Beach. I have to say, I’m not really a water person. I like to swim, but I’d rather look at a forest or a mountain. Nevertheless, being pounded by waves in Lake Huron was about as much fun as I’ve ever had. Failing for words to describe it a few days ago, my niece said, ‘it’s kid fun, Auntie.’ And that’s exactly what it was….kid fun, playing in the waves. Thought I’d lost my contacts a few times, but I managed to hold onto them in spite of being sucked under the water on several occasions. Kid fun.
Sauble Beach, before the crowds of exposed flesh descend
It was nice returning home to dry, and at least this week, cooler Alberta, and to a dog who is happy to walk anytime, anywhere, and in any weather.
Or at least, a new part of an old trail. South of the Fort Edmonton Park trail, and left of the staircase in Aspen Gardens, or…the trail that was flooded two weeks ago. North of that bit. My kindly sister dropped me off at the top of the stairs and I basically walked south for about an hour and a half, through the now unflooded trail, Snow Valley, and then Whitemud Creek Ravine. All of it is Whitemud Creek Ravine, but for the purposes of this excursion, the Whitemud Creek I know…
Very beautiful. Coolish morning, with a little rain, but also some sun and butterflies. And, not surprisingly, lots of erosion from the creek spillage. No dog today. She’s in Hawrelak at a meet n’ greet for the Humane Society, otherwise known as Pets in the Park. I wonder if she found her Donnaless walk as weird as I found my Maggieless walk…
Wow. The Equestrian Centre really takes its snacking seriously…
The carnivorous Whitemud Creek takes yet another chunk out of the trailThe rare Tree Dolly
Hotttttttttttttt! Silly me, went for a two-hour Canada Day walk at 11:00 AM, without the dog, of course. She had been taken earlier, when it wasn’t so steaming hot. I gotta experience one sweaty, boiling, stroke-out of a walk each summer, to make it feel like summer, and today was the day. It’s so humid that even if I had gone earlier this morning, I still would have been sweating down my ass (a marker of true humidity.) No point in taking any photos on this walk…noonday sun bleaches everything out. So, some photos of bees I took on my walk out to the garden yesterday.
