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Apart from this morning, which I spent sprinting for the bus, I usually like to walk in a leisurely fashion to the bus stop, taking in the scenery. It's been especially interesting this year, because I've been able to see the gradual change of the seasons even better than usual due to the early work hours I have when I'm on day shift.
This summer I became accustomed to walking in the glow of the pre-dawn, and as the days began to grow short once more, I began pinpointing first individual stars, and then entire constellations in the morning sky. On a clear morning, I could see Orion and the Big Dipper, and what I think might be Cassiopeia (I can't figure out for the life of me how to spell that this morning). I am not an avid star-gazer: I don't know the names of the constellations except for two or three, and I can identify one planet with a little difficulty (Mars, in case you were wondering), but I do love looking up at the sky and seeing it blanketed in small lights. It gives me great pleasure that the light pollution in Montreal isn't so bad that it blots out all the stars.
In the afternoons this summer I took a little more time to look at the trees on my street. I am fortunate enough to live in a neighbourhood with lots of greenery, which makes living in the city that much more bearable. There is something terrifically restful about watching the way the sunlight hits the green leaves (while my brain shouts "Photosynthesis for the win!" gleefully at the top of its very metaphorical lungs, because I'm a dork). Sometimes it's so beautiful it takes my breath away.
Yesterday morning an oddly-shaped cat slunk across the sidewalk into some tall grass about fifty yards ahead of me. I thought to myself: "Every time I think something is an oddly-shaped cat, it turns out to be a raccoon or a skunk." Sure enough, this one was a skunk, but instead of slinking into the underbrush, it turned at a right angle and began trundling rapidly along the sidewalk just ahead of me. That's when I discovered that I walk faster than the average skunk (or maybe just this one skunk), and got very very worried that I would get sprayed if I got too close. Eventually, when the skunk showed no sign of leaving the sidewalk, I compromised by switching to the other side of the street.
In short, a lot of little things come to my attention when I'm walking along my street. The flora, the fauna, the new bits of graffiti, what my neighbours are up to. I don't know why I've been paying extra attention to it all this year, but it's been a rewarding experience, overall.
This summer I became accustomed to walking in the glow of the pre-dawn, and as the days began to grow short once more, I began pinpointing first individual stars, and then entire constellations in the morning sky. On a clear morning, I could see Orion and the Big Dipper, and what I think might be Cassiopeia (I can't figure out for the life of me how to spell that this morning). I am not an avid star-gazer: I don't know the names of the constellations except for two or three, and I can identify one planet with a little difficulty (Mars, in case you were wondering), but I do love looking up at the sky and seeing it blanketed in small lights. It gives me great pleasure that the light pollution in Montreal isn't so bad that it blots out all the stars.
In the afternoons this summer I took a little more time to look at the trees on my street. I am fortunate enough to live in a neighbourhood with lots of greenery, which makes living in the city that much more bearable. There is something terrifically restful about watching the way the sunlight hits the green leaves (while my brain shouts "Photosynthesis for the win!" gleefully at the top of its very metaphorical lungs, because I'm a dork). Sometimes it's so beautiful it takes my breath away.
Yesterday morning an oddly-shaped cat slunk across the sidewalk into some tall grass about fifty yards ahead of me. I thought to myself: "Every time I think something is an oddly-shaped cat, it turns out to be a raccoon or a skunk." Sure enough, this one was a skunk, but instead of slinking into the underbrush, it turned at a right angle and began trundling rapidly along the sidewalk just ahead of me. That's when I discovered that I walk faster than the average skunk (or maybe just this one skunk), and got very very worried that I would get sprayed if I got too close. Eventually, when the skunk showed no sign of leaving the sidewalk, I compromised by switching to the other side of the street.
In short, a lot of little things come to my attention when I'm walking along my street. The flora, the fauna, the new bits of graffiti, what my neighbours are up to. I don't know why I've been paying extra attention to it all this year, but it's been a rewarding experience, overall.
