Posts Tagged: beaches

streetcar and family


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Waiting for the Queen car in front of Old City Hall. Whenever I look at those gargoyles up there I wish I had a long zoom lens. I read that the city almost tore down this building in the 60s. I will photograph more details of it before this project is finished, and you will agree that they were insane in the 60s.

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Taken from the 501 Queen streetcar on my way home from the Beaches.

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Fence and grounds at Osgood Hall, taken from the window of the streetcar. Captured the shadows. Did not capture how brilliant that forsythia looked in the sun.

I left work early today to go get my teeth cleaned at my dentist in the Beaches.  I enjoyed the ride on the infamous Queen streetcar.  Infamous for a couple of reasons – one of them is the fact that the cars are always late, always getting tied up with the traffic, as they don't have a dedicated lane on Queen Street; further complicated by it being the longest streetcar route in North America.  When I lived out in the Beaches, I had many a long wait for that car.

Later, Ceri and I met up with brother Scott and sister-in-law Jennifer, who came in from Washington to spend Easter with my family in St. Catharines, and taking a brief, baby-less couple of days in Toronto.  We walked over to Il Fornello on King Street and had dinner with Carly and Kelsey.  Great fun, great visit.  So fun, I forgot to take a picture.

The four of us left Scott and Jen at their hotel and went to Fionn's where we met up with Cathy who had just finished working a Leafs game.

Great night.

a quiet weekend and twenty-seventh day of noting beautiful stuff

beautiful things found in the process of a quiet, sun-filled weekend:

  • Queen Street East buskers: the one at the LCBO near my house who plays all the best soulful rock songs from the seventies and the nineties (reminds me of a band I once loved back in Windsor); and the gorgeous, gorgeous blues player with the really long black and grey braids and sunglasses and the warm and pleasant "why thank you" down at the other LCBO; (and no, I didn't spend my whole weekend hanging about the local liquor stores); and some seasonal newbies today: the pair of teenage girls singing (pretty badly actually, but they'll grow, I have no doubt) and playing guitar by the library and the young guy cranking out heavy metal solos just down the way in front of the church.
  • Colour.  The forsythia have been blooming all week.  And crocus and scilla are popping up willy nilly in the greening lawns.  And the colour of the trees – not only the busting out buds in shades of soft green, but the branches which seem to be pulsing with deeper, richer hue – more black looking against the early morning or evening light.
  • This movie, and this one, and this one.  All three about the connection between beauty and love – how one enhances the other. 
  • Muted sunlight and cool breezes awakening me in morning instead of the alarm clock.
  • Evening light:






day ten and light and colour before the snowstorm

Last weekend, before we got socked with this dumping of snow, we had two days of luscious, gorgous vitamin D.  When the days are sunny in February – everyone busts outside.  On Saturday I shopped and walked in my neighbourhood, and then later in the afternoon I walked via the beach to have burgers and beers with a friend and the colours tagged along. 

A tiny little mitten, no more than three inches high, hung in a tree in the hopes that the owner's grownup will find it:

Down at the lake the sun sinks lower and the colours get richer. 


Then, into the park and up towards Queen Street the light softens.  I admire it on the giant humanoid tree legs and their snakey tree arms reaching out. Maybe they're reaching out toward the last bit of daylight.  Or to spring.  Compared to the yellows and oranges down at the beach, I think this muted light is mystical.