Thursday, or Thereabouts - August 13, 2015

An August Change

It began with a single leaf dropped on a pebbled forest path...

...followed by unsettling revelations at the warehouse store, Costco®

Hallowe'en?? That's not until the end of October!

These arrived at the beginning of July, but are multiplying at a great rate!

If I buy this now, I won't be able to find it in December!

Start saving now - this humongous doll house will set you back $230!

No words!

and then the need to light the evening lamps just after 8pm. The darkness is coming earlier now.

And while the first notes of the siren song of summer shriek in retail stores and murmur in the trees, the mid-August night sky puts on an it's own august  show of her own. The remnants of comet Swift-Tuttle glide overhead in a festival of shooting stars, the annual Perseid meteor shower. Last year's show was out-shone, quite literally, by a super-moon, but this year, this week, there was but a sliver of a new moon to contest the view.

Last year's super moon rise, August 10/14

So there I stood out on our deck at 3am this morning, my back pressed against the wall just as my Dad had taught me so many years ago. I'm sure I felt my hand in his as I craned my head upwards, watching and waiting. The experts said this was the best viewing time of all, when up to 100 meteors an hour might streak across the night sky. It was a perfect night for watching the heavens though at 11°C a bit cool. I stayed there for just over 20 minutes, until my body begged for sleep. I saw just three shooting stars, not the twenty or more I had hoped for. I was disappointed but the time spent outside looking up was not wasted. The Milky Way arched overhead, its majesty and mystery on full display. Have a look at this image from NASA.

The night sky is one of the few places left that still holds a profound sense of mystery. One of the joys of living in the rural routes is seeing the sky in all her glorious light. When I look up into that blanket of darkness pin-pricked with twinkling lights I am always awestruck, almost overcome with wonder and uncertainty, reverence and scepticism, amazement and bewilderment. And so it was last night as I waited and watched for the Perseids - I was filled with that same wonder and excitement, fascination and awe; steeped in history and science, silence and my father's handhold.

Though colour may be coming to some tree tops, don't be too quick to write off summer.  The meteorologists say it ends in just 18 days, BUT the astronomers say summer does not end until the equinox at 4:22am EDT on September 23rd - that's nearly 6 weeks away!

I'm hanging out with the star gazers. How about you?

©2015 April Hoeller

Thursday, or Thereabouts - August 22, 2013

Music Box Memories

A grand gathering of the clan on a glorious summer afternoon this week, has transported me to a wistful place of muted resonance, soft hues, and gentleness. August brings me two companions in this peaceful Eden; two strong, beautiful women come sit beside me on the old wooden bench by the babbling river of life. One is my grandmother, the other my mother; one a beginning in August, the other an ending. My grandmother was born August 12, 1885 and lived into her 100th year; my mother died August 14, 2010 in her 90th year.

Back in May while cruising the Mediterranean, I penned this piece about my grandmother. Enjoy the cruise, while I go sit a spell with the two wise women.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wednesday, May 15 – Ten days until we are home again. Doesn’t seem like very long, yet there is still lots more to come, and so today we take a break and stay on board the ship while almost everyone else scurries off to Pompei, Herculaneum, Vesuvius, Sorrento, or Capri. It might have been nice to go to Capri –

I have a warm memory of my grandmother talking about a trip she and Gramps made there (in the late 50’s or early 60’s??), and in particular a story about the boat trip to the famous blue grotto. I recall her talking about having to crouch down very low, down on her knees in fact, in the boat in order to enter the grotto. She clearly did not like that part. It frightened her, but the rest Capri seemed to have touched her heart.

One of my prized possessions is a souvenir Gram brought back with her. It’s a wooden cigarette box with intricate marquetry on the top. When opened, the love song “On the Isle of Capri” chimes out softly. I vividly recall sitting on the floor at Gram’s knee watching in eager anticipation as she carefully picked up the box from its place on the living room side table, and just as carefully, slowly lifted the top. Together we listened to the tune the whole way through, me savouring every note and imagining an island in Italy with its blue grotto and scary boat ride, and Gram, her head turned just a bit to one side with a gentle smile playing around her mouth, lost in a delightful far away place.

We re-visited this wonderful magical moment every time I visited Gram and Gramps as a child, and each time the box was opened just once and then gently put back in its place on the table. I don’t know who loved these side trips more. No matter how many times my grandmother’s soft fingers stretched out to gently open that wooden box, we both held our breath in anticipation of delight. And by the way, there never were any cigarettes in the box, at least not when I was around.

I doubt that Capri today could top any one of those special moments with Gram. Some 50+ years have passed since her visit, so I’m betting there have been a few changes. From what I have read, ‘quiet’ is not a word that now describes the iconic island along the storied Amalfi coast. Tourism has taken over. So I am very happy to let the magical imaginings that spilled out from the wooden cigarette box to be my ‘photos du jour’ today. I’m not ready to let the dream be shattered by the reality.

Monday Moanings - August 5, 2013

No moaning today - a summer holiday Monday is upon us!

Time for a little history:

John Graves Simcoe
from a painting by
George Theodore Berthon 

The August Civic Holiday, the first Monday in August, is known in these parts as Simcoe Day in tribute to the first Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada (largely what is now the province of Ontario), John Graves Simcoe (1752 - 1806). A British Army officer and member of the Queen's Rangers, his tenure as lieutenant governor lasted just five years, (1791 - 1996) but in that time he racked up an admirable number of achievements. English through and through, Simcoe set about to uphold the supremacy of just about all things British, which on the whole was not a bad thing. He introduced English Common Law, trial by jury, the Court of Queen's Bench, and free hold land tenure. His adamant opposition to slavery shone through with legislation that banned the purchase and importation of slaves in 1793. By 1810 there were no slaves in Upper Canada, a full twenty-four years before slavery was officially abolished in the whole of British Empire (1834). Well done John!

Simcoe was also charged with the responsibility of establishing a capital, a seat of government and justice in the province. He stopped only briefly in Kingston, already a hub of trade and industry and headed further west to Niagara (Butlersburg) which he quickly renamed Newark and we now know as Niagara on the Lake. The first few sessions of the legislature were held there, but of course the area was way too vulnerable to attack from the Americans so Simcoe set his sights even further southwest to a location at the forks of  the La Tranche River, a river he renamed The Thames (I mentioned this guy was English, right?), near where London, Ontario is today. Unfortunately Simcoe's boss, Guy Carleton was unimpressed and strongly suggested (in the army that means 'ordered'), that Simcoe take a look at some land to the east, between two rivers (the Humber and the Don) that boasted a great harbour. There was already a small garrison there, Fort Toronto. So in August 1793, Simcoe upped sticks and moved east, renamed the garrison Fort York and the surrounding settlement, York (I told you he was English!). Forty-one years later the citizens of York successfully petitioned the government to have the name changed back to Toronto (1834). The Simcoe family seemed to have liked the place even though it claimed their daughter Katherine in the Spring of 1794. She's buried in the shadow of the King West condos, somewhere underneath Victoria Square. John, his wife Elizabeth Gwillim and son Francis built a summer home, Castle Frank, on the west side of the Don River.

In July of 1796 the family sailed out of York on the Onondaga bound for England. Simcoe left behind a tidy little community of one storey frame buildings, the beginnings of a great north-south street, Yonge Street and an east-west route, Dundas Street.

Today I celebrate the great city of my birth, the little hamlet that grew, Toronto. Thank you John Graves Simcoe for being a good soldier and following orders!

My Toronto is:

The Flat Iron Building

The Toronto Labyrinth

The Distillery District

The ROM

ROM Rotunda ceiling mosaic (Murano glass)

The Royal Winter Fair

New Year's Day Espresso at Hot House Cafe, Front Street

And so much more.

Thank you to Rick McGinnis for much of the history. Toronto photos ©April Hoeller