Walked over the High Level Bridge, through downtown to Canada Place, and then into the river valley. Almost two hours of pure, Spring heaven. The entire city smells like blooming Mayday trees. Even a few apple trees are popping their pink buds.
Hadn’t been by the Federal Building on 107th St (in the daylight) for months, and the renos have really progressed. I’ve always loved that 50’s era behemoth, which is saying alot since I hate most of the architecture in Edmonton. It looks like a building you might see in Washington, DC. When I worked downtown in the 90’s, I used to walk by it everyday, and I would imagine Scully and Mulder solving crimes involving giant flukemen and liver-eating sewer dwellers in the basement of that FBI-like building. And in 2011, when it officially reopens, perhaps the new occupants will be engaged in similar activities. Watch out, giant flukemen.
Can’t lay claim to any smugness today. Left for my walk at 11:30, three hours later than yesterday. The trails were packed. Lots of Weimaraners, for some reason.
Took the ‘new’ path that runs along the river near 98th. The apple trees ringing that particular route are still weeks away from full bloom, but the buds are getting pinker every day. Hopefully they’ll blossom just as I begin my spring holidays, which is always the plan, but sometimes they bloom later. This riverbank path leads to the Cloverdale pedestrian bridge, but the path circles around it, rather than directly to it. I created my own shortcut to the bridge by climbing a steep hill full of dead branches and old undergrowth. I’m all about the monkey trails, even if I have to create them myself.
I noticed an older woman straddling two planks on the bridge, with her hands on her hips, staring down at something. I know this posture! She’s looking for the goose nest.
“She’s been gone for over a week now. I’ve been by a bunch of times, and she’s never there.”
The woman looked stricken. “Oh. That’s too bad. I wonder if the babies are still alive? You know, I think this might have happened last year.”
Etc. We carried on about the geese for quite awhile. And then her husband joined us, and the discussion continued. I don’t know these people, but we fell into an easy conversation based on a mutual enjoyment of Louise McKinney Park and it’s microcosm of seasonal delights. And, it’s not the first time I’ve yapped with total strangers about the geese on this bridge. City Hall, please take note: many people have an intimate relationship with Louise McKinney Park, and this bridge, and all the animals, birds, and plants that live here. The thought that the bridge and a chunk of the park will be destroyed for the new Southeast LRT extension is unfathomable.
The first thing you notice is the green. Second, the smell. Third? There is no third, not just yet. Not until you’ve soaked in the verdant transformation of the landscape just days after a blanket of snow wrapped Edmonton in a frigid embrace. It’s like someone hit the refresh button. I would have preferred rain, but snow did the trick, and where would we be without a dump of the white stuff in May? Not at this latitude, certainly, and not with the same level of fatalism that is so uniquely Edmontonian when it comes to predicting (and complaining about) the last snow of the season.
I hit the trails early this morning. Just a few other joggers and me. Oh, and one guy looking for bottles. And some geese. Also, gardeners at the Muttart picking up perennials and topsoil. And some sort of Cub Scouts event. Funny, it seemed quieter than usual. Walked my favourite loop (about 90 minutes), through Mill Creek, Muttart, McKinney and then back again. It’s the M M & M route. Not to be confused with the M&M route (which makes the M M & M route an absolute necessity.) I always feel so smug when I walk in the morning.
No action in the frog bog yet. A few ducks but no froggies. Maybe I missed their annual ‘So You Think You Can Sing’ courtship competition. It is brief, but spectacular. Spectacularly weird.
Speaking of spectacular, after my walk I wandered over to the Strathcona Farmer’s Market to get my usual green things, and I ran into a mob of red things. Runners. Mostly men, in scarlet ball gowns and dresses, wigs, and sneakers. It was very impressive. Even more impressive than the skateboarding bulldog last week.
Kept bumping into them on my way home. Finally, one particularly fetching fellow in a deep-cut wraparound dress (with bonus chest hair) stopped and asked if I wanted to support their charity. Absofreakinglutely. These fussed up folks are members of the Edmonton Hash House Harriers, running for Camp Fyrefly, which is a camp for gay and lesbian youth. I last spotted them running amok down 99 St, soliciting drivers for donations. A sea of read satin gleaming in the sun. Simply delicious! Can’t think of a better use for a ball gown.
A long wet walk through a dripping forest. The snow took its toll on the trees, especially down in Rossdale. Most of the broken limbs were from the ash trees that canopy over the paths. The same ash trees which, in a few weeks, will be the main host for the lovely green ash worm. More about my spring nemesis later.
ash on the path
Unfortunately, the goose eggs are still on the pillar under the Cloverdale bridge, but the mum is nowhere to be found. I spent a chunk of my workday watching the Edmonton Journal goosecam (sorry boss) and it’s the same thing. Mother goose has buggered off somewhere, abandoning her eggs…for what? A pilates class? There appears to be an epidemic of wayward geese mothers. Gotta love nature. This would never happen if they were human.
I don’t want to hear it. Snow in May isn’t the magical, sparkling thing it is in December. Yes, it’s good for the soil. Yes, it will melt. Yes, it’s fun for the kids, but the few snowmen that have rolled up here and there drip with irony and only encourage more snowfall. It’s best not to acknowledge them.
The one thing that distinguishes December snow from May snow is the green grass poking through underneath. It is a striking contrast, promising a quick recovery from a temporary setback. However, I refuse to unpack my boots, so no icy hills today. In my defense, I did not take my resistance quite as far as the guy I saw in shorts. His knees were weeping.
It sure did. Lots of rain, lots of snow. No walking. Well, some walking. Enough to snap a few shots, get my toes wet, and severely oppress my hair.
sure, it's pretty but....
It was beautiful. The softest kind of beauty, but too much for some newly foliated shrubs and trees. And apparently, some power lines. On my way to Timmy’s for some sugary diversions, passed by a spruce tree that was full of tiny sparrows huddling and chirping amidst the fat snowflakes. Decided not to walk home. Too wet. Too wary of those swooning branches with their duvet-sized snow packs.
