Remember when it was a balmy 7 degrees? Yesterday, in fact? Oh 7 degrees. How I miss you.
It’s now 3 degrees, and it’s been raining solidly all day. And not just raining, I’m sad to report. As I stepped out of the Farmer’s Market, the rain suddenly got….I don’t know...thick. What’s the word for that? Can’t remember. I think it starts with a s….
So. I have no choice but to sit in my chair and read all afternoon. Something in the Swedish murder mystery vein, I expect. The birds are happy that I’ve filled up the feeder again. The rain and the chirping birdies will be my musical accompaniment.
A hot day in Butchart Gardens, a long, long time ago
You know…in January, if the temperature went up to 7C, Edmontonians would be on their knees thanking Buddha for such mercy. It is now the end of May, and it is 7C, and I am on my knees begging for mercy.
Hyperbole aside, I suppose it’s not that bad. We need the rain, and…uh…fuck.
That’s the sound my skin made when it hit the cold air.
Had to go to work today for a brief presentation, delaying my walk for a couple of hours. Brought a tank top and shorts, thinking that by the time I left work, it would be warm. Wrong. Cloudy skies and chilly winds greeted me at the door, and by ‘greet’ I mean, ‘slapped.’ It’s quite fascinating to see how quickly my skin can turn bright red. Damn my ruddy-faced ancestors!
In an attempt to get warm, I ran up the stairs by the Glenora Club. Or most of them. The top few I wobbled up, my heaving chest throwing me off balance. Then, through Ezio Faraone Park, which was packed with people, most of whom appeared to be participating in a noon fitness class. What a way to ruin lunch.
Instead of the MacDonald Hotel stairs, I took a different set near the Chateau Lacombe, which were pretty but I had to jaywalk in several places to get back to a real trail. Not sure where it would have taken me had I stayed on the sidewalk leading from the stairs, but I’m guessing back toward the Leg underpass. Wrong direction.
Stole a few more Lilacs on the way home. Never really warmed up, but at least my skin resumed a normal colour. If you can call that normal.
No need to lay out on a rock like a reptile, my blood has warmed. As is the prerogative of the rich (not me) and the vacationing (me), I spent almost two hours in the woods ambling about with no particular path or goal in mind. Did the stairs by the French School (Ecole something or other) for a bit, then over to Rutherford, Mill Creek, McKinney and various other monkey trails, until thirst finally trumped adventure.
I suppose I could have availed myself of a water fountain, but the last one I passed (in Henrietta Edwards Park) was occupied by The Dog Walker and four of his charges. I see the Dog Walker all the time, and have for years, so I was surprised when he showed up on my TV one night a few years ago in a documentary. GREAT doc, and interesting dude. Very shy, but his dogs always seem quite jolly. I saw him a couple of times today; near the boat, and then later by the fountain. He was sitting quietly on the bench with his grinning dogs, writing in a notebook. The quantity and type of dog always changes, but the Dog Walker is as a dependable feature of the river valley as magpies, meandering creeks, and another walker, sans dog (or dogs.)
I’m always happy to see Mr D. Walker and his dogs, but not as happy as I imagine the dogs (or the dog owners) are to see him.
Waited until the late afternoon before I stepped outside in my shorts. It was a slow graduation. Started out this morning in my jammies. Then capris for a lunch date in South Side Common. Finally, the shorts. It was 16C when I started my walk around 4:00 pm, and about 18C when I finished, about an hour and a half later. It just felt colder today, even though it was warmer than yesterday. I think I need to lay myself out on a rock slab like a reptile and let the sun warm my blood.
Maybe tomorrow.
A late winter bloom
About 45 minutes into my walk I stumbled across the rare Glovewood Tree in full bloom. I was tempted to pick the fragile flower but I remembered reading somewhere that Glovewoods are quite unique to these parts, and can only be found along the sides of trails in the days following the last snowfall. Almost all Glovewoods have just one bloom (which flower in a huge variety of colours, sizes, and weaves), and disappear shortly after their distinctive, glove-like flower blooms, usually within a week or two. I feel very lucky indeed!
The first sunny day in…well...a few, anyway. The air in the river valley is infused with the sweet scent of new life and everywhere else the smell of freshly mown grass. And the birds have turned their songs up to maximum volume. I always say my favourite season is winter, but after six or seven months of sense deprivation, spring, this part of spring, is like all my senses stimulated at once. Senses working overtime, to quote Andy Partridge.
Mill Creek is full of poplar fuzz. I hope it’s not toxic because I ate quite a lot of it. (Note to self: stop walking with mouth open, you’re not a whale taking in krill.) Took a few shots but the fuzz doesn’t register very well, in spite of the quantity. In some areas it looks like it’s snowing, especially if a biker disturbs a pile on the edge of the trail, or someone, possibly a walker, possibly me, kicks at the settled pillows of fuzz just to watch them fly up into the air and then waft gently downward in the sunlight. Things to do on the trail…
Checked in at the frog bog but it remains amphibian-free, I think. No bubbles on the surface, no tiny splashes. No moaning, groaning, or croaking. I’ll keep watching but I’m pretty sure the frogs would have made their presence known by now. More room, I suppose, for the other slimy things that live in bogs. Still, I’ll miss the froggies.
