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.