And then yesterday's federal elections here in Canada. . . and the relief of last night's results. I knew I'd been anxious about the possibility of what I see as some big steps backward. I scarcely ever mention politics on this blog (although mine can probably be intuited by the astute reader), nor do I intend to take it up, but you will probably know that our PM has made some serious gaffes, has disappointed, even betrayed. The party on the right, however. . . .
Nope. Not going to go there. I started to, but it's all been deleted. As I said, though, I knew I'd been anxious going into the election; I don't think I'd realized quite how anxious until I savoured the relief last night. We're moving forward, and I'm breathing with more hope than despair this morning. I've been awake since 5, up since 5:15. Sipped my hot lemon-honey water, scrolled through my Instagram feed, wrote for an hour, and then sat here on the couch with a cup of tea and watched the sky. Heavy, dark, and grey, it was, with just a narrow band of brightness at the horizon. Then the wind. Leaves sprinting across our terrace at my eye level, the blades of the Japanese Blood Grass churning in their container on the small front balcony, water being flung ferociously from the fountain (oooh, alliteration!). . . And the clouds being shifted in the heavens. Not so solid anymore, and they've pulled further from the earth, making room for a deeper expanse of blue sky. It's looking like a good day for a walk. . .
Last night, as the election results were being telegraphed across the country, rain was pelting down. The roof below me, across the alley, features a large puddle soon after any precipitation, and the streetlight shines on the drops hurtling down, the ones bouncing back out. Heavily, last night. . . a 30-40 millimetres-of-rain day, apparently. More, it was dark and windy, and it struck me as the first dark and stormy night of the fall rainy season. . . .And with that recognition, I was transported momentarily to the island, to the years and years of such stormy nights . . Teaching an evening class through the fall or winter semester regularly meant a boat ride through rough waters followed by cycling the dark and muddy road, my back spattered with dirt flung up from the puddles I didn't see until too late, my vision obscured as raindrops rolled down the lenses of my glasses, hair quickly soaked. books and bags wrapped tightly in their paniers.
Even when I was grumbling heartily, I loved the adventure, the drama, of life on the island, and there's no question that the adventure heightened the comfort of being indoors by the woodstove. But last night I was content to be here, just here, in the relatively anodyne ease of my urban condo, recollecting, reminiscing. . . . And I thought I'd share that contentment with you, in this ramble of a post.
Now for some visual entertainment, courtesy of my urban life, where there are delights and surprises whether you are looking up . . . .
aerial view on the Australian artist Fintan Magee's Instagram gives a much better image of the entire painting.
And with that, I think it's time to push away from the keyboard and get outside. If you're interested, I posted yesterday on my book blog, where I'm still back in August's reading, but catching up. . .
I have something new for you next post, if all works out. An idea for us to learn a bit more about each other, for you readers to get better acquainted. . . Be sure to stop by. . .
Meanwhile, though, I welcome your responses to any of my musings today. . . .and if you only have time to wave hello, I welcome that greeting as well.