Autumn Walking

I'm trying to learn to take the long view and yet go one day at a time. As we go through another wave of Covid cases, more weeks of mainly staying home, I try to have a rhythm to my days. Walking has become my mental boost - a chance to get out and concentrate on the little things - the change in colours, the summer flowers giving way to fall ones.

Autumn can be moody - one day a spectacular feast of colours, with blue skies and vibrant reds and oranges.

Other days reminding us of life's fragility. Grey skies can bring grey moods.

The walking brings rhythm to my day, opening vistas, as I climb the hills in my neighbourhood. Walking clears the mind, oils the body, and brings peace.

More Flowers

With life much more confined we need to find joy in our surroundings. This time of year my walks take me past many gardens. While it brings visual delights, it also slows my pace. I just have to stop and admire. 

The lilies everywhere are quite spectacular. They are one flower I never bring indoors. Their heavy aroma starts me sneezing.

I have never seen lilies quite like these before. They almost look like someone took a paintbrush to them. There is certainly joy in the gardens.

The Little Things

Particularly in this time of distancing and semi-isolation life is about the little things. While we can no longer venture out in the world, we can find richness around us. Nowadays I shop at Atwater Market. I feast on the colours, though I no longer linger. But at home I can savour the subtleties in flavour of each of these cherry tomatoes. I stock up on berries, fresh from farms and forests.  While my world seems smaller, the small things become bigger - they matter more. The mindfulness of a new slower life.

New Neighbours

I had a nice surprise this week. Last year we had many ducks on the pond in the park. This year two males seemed to be hanging around, but no females. In this topsy turvy year it seemed this was also a "new normal." But on Wednesday I noticed the female and then some tiny creatures scurrying into the water. A new family of ducks is here. She must have been well hidden as she brooded on her nest. Now the little ones are zipping around, venturing quite far from their mother and then peeping to hear her answer.




I'm not sure I got an accurate count as they moved around so fast, but I think there are nine little ones. It is so delightful to see these new lives at this time. Life does go on.

No CAMMAC

Today would have been the day that I packed my bags with clothes and instruments to head to CAMMAC. I have missed, maybe two of the past 31 years. It is very much part of my life. But the coronavirus has brought an end, for now, to much of what was part of our lives. I found myself at the beginning of the pandemic, slowly unpacking bags and putting away parts of my life. My gym bag got emptied, cleaned and stashed away in a cupboard. I emptied the instruments out of my music bag and it too found a spot in the cupboard. My backpack was emptied of the items I carried with me to study groups at MCLL. It was a period of mourning, of wondering what life had become.

I slowly replaced my outings to the gym with online training, and zoom sessions replaced face to face activities. But playing music in groups is one thing that can't happen online. The lag time makes synchronous music impossible. I'm fortunate, living with a baroque flute player - duets are an almost daily occurrence. But CAMMAC provided so much more - opportunities to play in groups, to be coached by outstanding teachers and to spend whole days living music.  CAMMAC's location in the Laurentians allowed me to escape the city, to enjoy the peace of sitting by the lake. And the concerts! But it is not to be this year. My fingers are crossed that CAMMAC will survive a year without revenue, or much reduced revenue. I'm counting on a vaccine to bring concerts and group playing back into my life.  But when...

The Joy of Flowers

In this time of mainly staying home,  I take pleasure in flowers. I have about a dozen orchids, some over ten years old. I am no expert on their care - I have previously written that they flourish under my benign neglect, but flourish they have throughout the pandemic. I currently have seven blooming. I can get lost in their beauty, drawn in to their centres, fascinated by the complexity.

Each orchid has its unique charm and many bring back memories of where I got them or who gave them to me. A few came my way when my then 95 year old cousin died. Each time they re-flower it feels like a gift from her. All three of those orchids sent up new shoots and bloomed over the past few months; it was as if they knew I needed their beauty. Part of the joy is the surprise of shoots appearing, sometimes after a couple of years of being dormant and once the flowers open, they stay for a few months.

Outside I can't help but stop to admire various gardens. Lilies in many vibrant colours make their presence known.  These lovely orange blossoms will stick around, but like most perennials they have their season.

On my walk I was treated to this patch of pink - varying shades competing for attention. It has been a hot start to summer. After my walk I was happy to retreat inside with air conditioning surrounded by my orchids.

Weights

My quest to stay fit through this pandemic takes many forms. I walk, up the hills and try to increase my distance slowly. At least once a week I manage a 6 km plus walk, other days more like 4 km. And twice a week I exercise with weights and other gym equipment. This means my warmup consists of transforming part of our living-room/dining-room/music space into my gym. I bring all the equipment in, move music stands and furniture, set up my computer so I can meet online with my trainer and then I'm set. I used to go to the gym twice a week so this is my way of continuing. 

At the gym I used to muse about the fact that so much of the equipment was colourful, making one try to believe one was playing with toys - until you picked them up. My display (6 lb - 12 lb weights) looks playful, but by the end of an hour I know they are actually instruments of torture (well -  not quite). Workout is followed by cool down - a reverse of setting everything up as the weights retreat to their spot in a cupboard along with the gym mat, foam roller, stability ball and elastics. Furniture gets moved back to their places and the music stands once more are ready for another kind of workout. 

A Flash of Red

The weather has become very hot - and I am not a hot weather lover. I choose the early morning for my walk for slightly cooler temperatures. There is something peaceful about early morning. Walkers distance from others, yet the occasional smile, nod of the head lets others know that while we distance physically, we are all in this together. At our slower pace of life I savour these little moments. There is time for noticing. I caught this flash of red like a flame among the cool greens. With no deadline to reach a destination, I stopped and enjoyed the way the red just popped out at me - a little visual feast.

Another red clad person caught my eyes and my ears. At both the beginning and the end of my walk, I passed him as he played his saxophone, indifferent to people around him. It was lovely to hear a live musician. While I have watched YouTube concerts and Facebook concerts, they don't live up to the live experience. In that other life I attended many concerts and this week, in particular, I am missing the Montreal Baroque Festival, where I would attend as many as 5 concerts in one day.  So I savour this moment, too. A little sense of normalcy in our very abnormal times.

The Long and the Short View

A dark cloud has been hanging over the world as the pandemic has spread its tentacles. Nothing is as it once was. We try to get used to this new normal of distancing, of staying safe. I try to walk every day. My trajectory gives me long views over the city, across the river to the mountains in the distance. 

As I take each day I can fill it with positives: classes on zoom, virtual connections with friends, playing music, reading... At the end of each day I jot down a few things I'm grateful for - and there is always something. Thinking short term I find many ways to enrich my life. It is the long view that is hard. Too many questions with no answers. So it's one day at a time ... and we will get past this. 

Pandemic Ponderings

I've been thinking for a while of getting back to this blog - trying to process so many changes to our world. The first couple of weeks after the pandemic was announced I was reeling. But now I am used to the walking and dodging people, preferring to take my long walks early in the day when fewer people are about. I head up the hill and can keep a good pace without having to take too many avoidance measures as happens later in the day, particularly on weekends. I am determined to stay in shape despite the fact that I am home most of the time, so I don't always stop for those photo ops that might have enticed me in the past. Yet it feels so wrong to avoid people.

Time at home forces one to re-evaluate life, to find ways to focus on positives and to find ways to make life meaningful despite, at times feeling closed in. And there has been much to think about  - not only the pandemic, but issues of racism, partisanship and the whole notion of listening - really listening to the points of view of others. I am not a TV watcher, but I have spent time watching documentaries online, exploring issues and perspectives. I try to be an optimist and hope that coming out of this eventually we may steer to a kinder more inclusive world. I see glimmers, but we can't leave it to others to do all the work to get there.