I’m looking at yesterday in the rearview mirror. It was a good day. It started out drizzly and overcast but I made the trek to “town” to get necessary supplies like toilet paper and soap. I may not have written anything yesterday but I am in a good position to keep clean and somedays that is an essential plan. As I strolled around the narrow-aisled grocery store I felt a bit like a bull in a china shop with my backpack banging into other customers and narrowly missing knocking items from the shelf. Note to self: remove backpack upon entering shopping establishment. A simple remedy.
After I sat at my desk and pretended to work I gazed out the window to “my” yard and there is a small deck or platform at the bottom of the lawn with some signs etc about Berton House and Pierre Berton having grown up here. Two women were standing on the platform taking photos and pointing to the house and I was in clear sight of them. I started to giggle, imagining that I was part of the viewing. I thought I should go out to the front porch and begin a soliloquy, perhaps “To be or not to be” or some rather dramatic impression of Shakespeare. Or perhaps I could read from one of the many many Pierre Berton books on the shelf here. The women wandered off before I could prepare myself. Another group came by and I decided it was time to bail out. So I went for a hike.
I looked up the directions to find Crocus Bluff. Sounded like a remarkable point of viewing despite the heavy overcast skies. I got the instructions clearly in my mind and headed out, walking to King Street and starting the climb on the road. Seemed an odd way to hike.
I climbed and I climbed and then I climbed some more and eventually came to the very welcome sign that said “Crocus Bluff Nature Trail”. I made it. So in I trekked on a lovely wide well-traversed trail. Two dogs galloped by me with a “heads-up” shout from their owner, but they didn’t even bother to check me out to determine if I was friend or foe. On I went.
I caught my breath looking over this magnificent view. If only I could paint.
I began to retrace my steps and came upon a sign with an arrow that said “Ninth Avenue Trail”.
Well, I thinks to me-self, I live on Eighth Avenue so perhaps I should follow this trail. And I did. I whistled and sang as all the rather worrisome signs suggested to keep the bears away from me. I trekked down the slope, back and forth a bit like a sail boat. When I came out on the road, to borrow a phrase from Perry Como, “What to my wondering eyes should appear?” I was two blocks from my house. Conclusion: I took the longest possible route to Crocus Bluff. Sigh. But the good news: I didn’t get eaten by a bear. So all in all, a good outing.
Plan for today: figure out a meal that doesn’t include toast. I love toast. Toast is good. I am grateful for toast. But perhaps a vegetable wouldn’t be a bad idea. Wish me luck.
Oh, and new sheets. I think the sheets on the bed were here when Pierre Berton slept on them. As inspiring as that may be … it’s time for new sheets.