Walking in the river valley is my happiness drug. Peanut M&M’s certainly have their place in my life, but when I need a real infusion of the feel goods, I go for a walk.

When I used to work in a bookstore, people would ask how I could walk for hours after standing all day. On the contrary, I found it energizing. It does seem counter-intuitive, but the truth is I was more tired if I didn’t walk. Same thing with my brain. When my head parts are at their shriveled worst, from stress, from over or under use, or just a bad case of the blues, it’s not a nap, or a new dress, or a mood altering whatever that my brain requires to calm itself. It’s a goose paddling in the river…and then moments later, soaring over my head toward its mate on the hill. It’s an early spring lilac, like a bouquet of tiny mauve grapes wrapped in green, still weeks away from their full purple potential. A trio of grey pigeons huddling protectively around a small, dove-white pigeon. The creek, free of ice, filling the valley with gorgeous watery sounds. Sometimes I just stop and listen to the woods. There’s a constant hum of creature and forest noises, but unlike the constant hum in my own brain, it’s regenerative. Life busy with life, regardless of whether I’m there or not. It’s very reassuring. I’m not saying that peanut M&M’s aren’t relaxing or reassuring, but a walk in the woods lasts longer.

1:02 PM/3C (Back to my jacket and thermal leggings. It’s cold, but perfect for a hike.)

Shorts, a t-shirt and single-digit temperatures are not a good mix. On the positive side, my legs finally have some colour. It’s like they’re blushing.

There is a raven’s nest on top of the old Arts building on campus. Noticed it at lunch. Actually, I noticed  two guys pointing up, and then I saw the nest, partially obscured by the HUGE raven perched on its edge. The bird was fantastic, like a beautiful, black gargoyle. And the sound coming out of that thing! The raven’s neck feathers were puffed out in agitation, and it was screaming at us, or maybe it was screaming at the wind, which is much more of a threat to the precariously placed nest than the gawking idiots scuffling about below. When I returned with my camera several hours later, I watched the raven swoop in for a quick drop-off at the nest, but it flew off before I could snap a picture. Very impressive.

The parade of animals continued as I made my way through the river valley.

Saw two ducks, a male and female, sitting on the bank of the North Saskatchewan River. Their presence, and perhaps the presence of a nearby nest was driving the magpies crazy. They were louder than the cars on River Road.

A brown hare was sitting on the grass, keeping an eye on the magpies,

the ducks, the cars, and me.  All this drama, and then the batteries fell out of my camera.

The weather people are forecasting rain again, but I don’t believe them anymore. The ground on both sides of the path running through Rossdale is completely littered by branches and occasionally, entire trees that have fallen prey to the drought, and most especially the wind. Some of the damage is from the BIG WIND STORM of 2009, but alot of the damage is recent.

So…I’d like to say a special thanks to the trees for not falling on me. Judging by the sound and frequency of the creaks, it was a definite possibility.

5:45 PM/9C

That was one HOT walk. It didn’t help that my backpack was absolutely stuffed. It felt like I had a feverish five year old clinging to my back. Also, I was carrying a bag because there was not enough room in my backpack. One last complaint: I managed to dislodge my hip joint on the way home yesterday, or that’s what it felt like, and so I was walking with a limp. Don’t wanna be lame in the river valley. Might get taken out by a bobcat.

However, the day was beautiful. The grass is turning green in spite of the lack of moisture. I love defiance in the face of adversity. Lots of trees are losing their seeds. Some are spitting them off the branches, others just hang there waiting for a breeze. On the ground, the seeds look like fat grey caterpillars. I read somewhere that in times of drought, trees double-seed. I think we’re going to be up to our knees in Poplar fuzz in a few weeks.

6:02 PM/25C

Ahhh…the smell of spring. Tiny leaves unfurling on the branch, releasing their sweet, living scent. Pine sap heating in the afternoon sun. Wet, fertile earth. An old box of rubber bands. Wait, what? That’s not spring…it’s…cannabis? Oh right, it’s April 20th. 4/20. International Stoner Day.

Last year, same day, I wandered into the Legislature grounds and straight into a cloud of marijuana smoke. At the time I had no idea why so many people (teenagers mostly) were gathered on this spot, some in groups, others scattered about on the grass, all blissfully unaware of the wide-eyed phony in their midst. Was it to publicly declare their love of black t-shirts and hacky sack? And why were they all smoking dope? It seemed rather flagrant and as per usual in social gatherings, particularly this one, I felt terribly out of place.

Today, there seemed to be even more people, very few over 30 and those who were over 30 looked 90 (but were probably 35.) Strangely, the hula-hoops outnumbered the hacky sacks two to one, but as I observed, there was lots giggling and very little hooping. I thought I saw a woman with a falcon on her shoulder but as I got closer I realized it was a pigeon. I didn’t tell her. I also spotted a guy who had a large variety of bongs attached to his overalls, and I thought, he’s a ‘bong-man’, and then he turned around and his hat said ‘bong-man’.

There were also quite a few dogs, mostly pitbulls, or pitbull adjacent. I’m not quite sure what the connection is between dope-smoking and muscular dogs, but there wasn’t a collie or a lab in sight. Then again, the visibility was almost nil.

As I emerged out of the cloud and headed toward Rossdale, the beneficence I felt toward the crowds of shiny, happy people and their sturdy little dogs lingered for awhile and then dissipated, like a puff of smoke. The rest of the walk was unremarkable. Couldn’t wait to get home and murder a bag of chips.

Read another post about 4-20 here.

5:45 PM/23C

Another lovely day…too lovely for a t-shirt. It was only 14C when I left around 11:00 but I think the temperature spiked as soon as I stepped out the door. Without any clouds, it felt hot. Really hot. I suppose there are worse things that can happen to a person than a little sweat. Still, I’d rather be too cold than too hot. It’s the Canadian in me.

Speaking of worse…the stairs on either side of the Low Level Bridge are now a matching pair. Both have been burned and both are inaccessible. The last thing the river valley needs is an arsonist, but at least the fires were contained. The north end staircase has been a blackened stump for several weeks now, and it’s anyone’s guess when the City will be getting around to repairing it. Had it been repaired right away, I wonder if the copycat fire on the south end would have happened? These braniacs have to get their ideas from somewhere.

On a happier note, my favourite staircase, which serves as one of the prettiest access points to Mill Creek, has been restored to its creaky, weathered self. During the wind storm last week, a tree uprooted itself and slammed down on the staircase, smashing a few steps (you should see the tree), and rendering them unsafe, but…with a little fancy maneuvering, still usable.  Nevertheless, the stairs were repaired almost immediately, most likely by the folks who live nearby. Hooray, and thank you to them.

This staircase, which also includes a short bridge across the deeper part of the ravine, is one of the hidden gems of Mill Creek. It’s a tiny thing, but well used, and evidently, well-loved. It’s soft, wooden boards gently yield to the feet (and paws) of the human and dog traffic bounding its way down the stairs and across the bridge on a daily basis, not to mention the rain (when we get it), and snow that further soften the old wood. This resilient little staircase just gets lovelier and lovelier with each passing year.

1:05PM/21C