My mind is glad to wake but my eyes are not, and they do their best to stay closed against the brightening window. I try to focus on some fat steely looking clouds hovering there, my eyelids protesting while I try to gauge the direction of their journey across the sky, but they are moving so slow my eyes won’t stay open long enough to judge. Opening them again, a beefy face underneath a newsboy cap emerges in the heavy grey mounds, and it’s something to focus on. I watch the face and it watches me as it creeps south toward the lake, past my window and out of sight, presumably turning its attention to sleeping dwellers in the building across the street.
I lay there and think about that face for a minute, and then, eyes ready to receive the morning, open to see the sky now entirely blue beyond the window. I get out of bed and put the kettle on for coffee.
The spring sky beckons to the heart starved by a winter that overstayed its welcome. “You don’t need to escape the cold any more. Come on, linger a little longer…”
Today I am participating in a long conference call and so I camp out in a vacant office so I can close the door and put the phone on speaker. The office overlooks Adelaide Street and one of my favourite downtown buildings, the Canada Permanent Trust building. I get watching the office workers on several floors and it strikes me that each floor is a separate world of its own, each person oblivious to the others moving about above and below. That gets me to thinking about the thousands and thousands of office workers moving about the the windows of all the office buildings downtown, like worker ants. The thought of being a worker ant makes me a little depressed so I turn my attention back to the meeting and get on with my job.
Last night, Friday, I get home early and make split pea soup. Ceri comes over and we open a bottle of wine Leonard gave us last weekend. D'Angelo Foch, bottled, we note, when my 27 year old youngest daughter was 11. Len wasn't sure if it would be wine or vinegar, but it sure is wine and we linger over it.
Later Ceri takes off to go prepare for his trip back home, and then Cathy comes over – she'd come into town for a colleague "transition party" and some sister time. We drink more wine and talk and she sleeps over.
Saturday, it's sunny, clear and gorgeous and we decide to walk over to the market and to have brunch on a patio. When the sun's out, it's hot; when the clouds cover it, it's cool. That picture up there – it's me hanging on to the sun moments. We are not ready to give up outdoor meals yet.
It's been a really good three quarters of a day.
Saturday morning Ceri and I walk up in the pouring rain to collect our rental car for what is has become the annual long weekend road trip to Amherstburg to see friends at the Shores of Erie Wine Festival. After collecting Carly and Kelsey at their respective homes we get on the highway and point south-west. There is a dodgy hour or so, trying to get coffee and sandwiches behind a busload of seniors at the first available highway stop. Eventually though, the rain clears, and the sky puts on a show and suddenly we're almost there.
It's August and as I seem to do every August, I grab hold of summer with the strongest arms I can muster and threaten to never let go. It calls me outside, August. Fortunately, I have the kind of job where I can get up and go for short walks throughout the day as I need to.
The Graphic Arts Building is around the corner from my office. I always stop to admire its imposing classical features. It's been converted to lofts; unlike so many other historical buildings in the city, it wasn't merely preserved as a "front" to a tower behind it. It's refreshing to see the five storey thing there amidst all the towers in the surrounding financial district.
I would like to live in a building like that.