is it me, er

11 August 2009

Yesterday I took a “mental health” day off.  I had suffered with a rotten fevery cold all weekend and didn’t do a whole lot more than laying around.  So yesterday I claimed one of those weekend days back.  In honour of that, I carried out a couple of the the items on my “small steps” list from the other day, one of which is getting down to the beach more often to write.  

I must say, I didn’t write much, but I had a really rewarding walk – down past the end of the boardwalk and up a little hill to Neville Park and back on to Queen Street to linger over the shops and treat myself to a late lunch/early supper on the patio of my favourite pub. 

I stop a few times to listen to the water lapping (gosh, I really miss living beside the lake) and watch dogs run with their pals in the leash-free areas.  I find a fun circular pattern made of rocks in a stretch of sand left by some weekend beach visitor.  At one point I stop and admire this marvellously humanoid tree.  I first see the obvious: a serene queen with a dramatic tall crown, hair falling down around her face and arms held up to the sky.  Then, the more I sit with the tree, I find ancient faces emerging all over it. 

Humanoid Tree Compressed

Tree faces Compressed

I just hope the parks people aren’t in a hurry to move this tree.  I think she and all her otherworldly friends are indicating a great place to sit awhile and write.

At home in my dining room is a marvellous little piece of old tree root sitting amongst the plants that I found on the trail near my father’s Manitoulin Island place a few years ago.  As I sat admiring my find that day, my father said, “I suppose you see faces in that old piece of wood.”  He knows his daughter and her habit of finding faces everywhere.  I think I subconsciously seek them out.  I don’t know what a psycho-analyst might say about that, but let’s not go there.

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