At the end of the day

I've now lived on the gravel road for 16 years. Seems like a long time.

The farm and the gravel road are home. The city-any city- would be,too- if I lived there. But I live here. I take much of this as given, now, though. I'm about to go for a walk as the sun sets and it gets dark. Alone. On a gravel road. (Cue scary music! ha) When I walk I hear the evening song of the birds, the frogs' song and, soon, will be able to smell and listen to the corn grow. If a car drives by, it will be A car, not a constant stream. If I hear voices, it will be because the sound is carrying across a field. If I hear traffic, it will be the white noise that drifts north from the 401. But it's pretty still tonight, so maybe no traffic.

I can't go to the corner Starbucks with a book and watch the people walk along Richmond Row. Have to make my own. I can't pass a group of friends I haven't seen for awhile and stop and get caught up. Have to call. I can't take a different route, because there's only left and right out of the driveway and there are only so may ways I can walk before I have to pass a dog whose personality I am not sure of, and so, avoid. Have to notice the small changes in the fields or the sky or the road underfoot.

I suppose this is what city people think when they pine for the country. They can't live a car free life, or walk to work or school, but they can walk a gravel road, at night, alone.

Walking along a gravel road early in the morning has to be one of the greatest simple pleasures there is. This morning the sun was translucently veiled by the rising mist from an early morning frost. When the the air is still, the white noise from the highway is a distant presence. A couple of planes in the air. Typical.

Just after 8, the school bus goes by. One student gets picked up across the road from us. Other than that, there are few vehicles. Yet, it is noisy. The traffic of thousands of birds sounds forth from the trees at the edges of the fields. In one wood, a gaggle of geese are kicking up a ruckus. In the other one, I can hear a wild turkey.

The air is particularly extraordinary. It's still waking up. It hasn't the feeling of being used yet. Fresh, it seeps deep into my lungs. I'm free from the staleness of the winter house air. Air that I'm refreshing, like a web page gone awry, daily, through a small open window or a cracked open door.

I could walk forever in this light and space. It's different at night and it's now warm enough to enjoy nighttime walks. With tonight being Earth Hour and the sky predicted to be clear, I may well be able to enjoy yet another simple gravel road joy.

First Day of Spring on a Gravel Road

Around the corner from us is the Thorny Acres Arboretum. It is a huge tract of land owned by a retired doctor couple. They have lovingly cared for the land, planting trees, cultivating environmentally sensitive areas, repairing the fence, providing a relatively safe place for deer, raccoons, wild turkeys, birds, critters and native plant species. They wouldn't let anyone in to walk at all- I asked some years ago- and I've always respected that, though the existence of a fence, a huge piece of land and a NO TRESPASSING sign on the gate have been tempting.

This morning it was frosty cold and the north wind was biting, but the sun was out and the sky was that magical, spotless, clear blue. The sun was just up over the horizon and the air was filled with the spring calls and sounds of thousands of birds. The Gravel Road is a noisy place!

The night world of animals is quite hidden, unless you're out and about at night. Raccoons, I'm assuming, had tipped over the plastic garbage can on wheels, opened the lid and gotten their midnight snack (lock the lid) and all the sunflower seeds were neatly cleaned up from the pieces of wood I'd spread them out from. If it were birds, the shells would still be there. These surfaces were lickety split clean.

At the Arboretum, there are more tell tale critter signs. A winding, narrow swath of dirt brown grass is flattened leading from the 'inside' of the fence to the outside. Dozens of raccoon tracks are frozen in the roadside gravel. Along the road, in the areas that get squishy on spring days, deer tracks. Very lightly impressed into the mud... wild turkey footprints. Places in the fence where the deer can jump over the barbs safely, the wire bent down. A hole through matted grass where the raccoons can get in and out of the arboretum.

I have neither camera nor plaster of Paris with which to record these. But I find it a simple wondrous joy to be aware of these things.

In the early mornings, the gravel road is rock hard, frozen, solid. There's still some frost in the ground and at nighttime, it freezes, just enough. The early morning is the best time to get out for a walk at this time of year. Although the edges of the road are squishy, the centre, where everyone drives and the two tracks have been driven over time and time again, it feels like pavement.

I love the feeling of the road under my feet. It's quiet, too, although the bird sounds are really loud. I can barely hear the white noise from the 401 a few miles south of us.

The killdeer are back, looking for suitable puddles of gravel and leaves to make their nests, so we know spring is really here. They're a curious bird. Of the sandpiper family, they don't perch. They fly and they walk on the ground. Their nests are highly camouflaged, but on the ground. The eggs blend in with the stones and dirt around and it takes a very keen eye and lots of passing by to detect them. When the eggs hatch, the babies are up and walking. There's no time for them to learn to fly.

I have a choice of going left or right out of the laneway. Sometimes it depends on the wind direction. Otherwise, it's by whimsy. There are miles and miles of roads to walk, but they aren't all open and free for walkers. There are dogs, and not all of them are used to pedestrian traffic. It makes my walk ciruitous, an around the block kind of walk. Around the block on the gravel road is a 6 km walk, an hour and a bit if I hoof it, 90 minutes at a good pace.

Yesterday I broke out the bike! The road was still solid and I took it out for a spin. No helmet, no bike gloves, no bike pants. Just my gardening gloves. It was a glorious 2 km ride, up to the "corner" and back. Made all the difference in the world. Just that first ride. If I get the bike rack out, I can take the bike into the city and hit the trails. But for today, just knowing that I could ride was all I needed.

Spring is Spring, the Mud is Riz

How unlike March break for it to be sunny and warm! To look at the entire yard and contemplate cleaning it up is too much. I've made a raking list or sections.

I'll be sure to check them off as they get done.

The shells of the sunflower seeds I've been putting out all winter for the hundreds of birds that tease my cats have created a cushy area in front of the office windows. The seeds that have not been de-shelled are now sprouting. I tend to let them go. See how many will get the chance to become sunflowers.

The Egyptian onions are up and I just may clip a few green stalks for dins tonight. Or tomorrow. There are weeds in the garlic beds because I didn't get any straw down. That will have to be remedied. Catnip is up, according to at least one of the cats. The starlings are hell bent on getting their nests firmly in place in the holes around the windows.

What's on your cleanup list?