Last week I had returned from a walk on
a walk/ bicycle pathway that stretched east and west
alongside the dirt road my mother's house
sits by. Ticks are common in that neighborhood so no walk in the woods for me.
While
there I listened to the sound of frogs croaking. They seem
especially loud at that time of year. My mother
told me that in her neighborhood many of
the people living there believed
that the loud croaking sound meant that there
would be no more frost.
My lungs, that weekend, were refreshed by the cleanliness
of the air. My eyes, that weekend, feasted on the various growth
that peeked up through the ground.
Last weekend I was in the country that
stretched out as far as the eyes could see. This weekend, in the city, I walked
with several Toronto Power Walkers in what appeared to me to be a small country-
like piece of land. Yes a cemetery but one in which the air felt fresh. My eyes
feasted on the various growth that had flowered and I am happy to report that
no frost was seen.
How fortunate we are that we have these small
country-like pieces of land in the city. How fortunate we are that we can walk
within the arms of nature.
