Finding Inspiration

I often post images of the scenes and creatures I encounter while walking along the paths of my local park. The pond within, offers a setting which is inviting to a wide variety of birds, but it also attracts animals of the human variety, including camera-toting bloggers.

This post is no exception. When you scroll down, you'll see some photos taken around the pathways near home, but my mind has wandered to a few of the regular characters I see during the course of my walks on any given day.

One evening, when Frank and I were out walking Benny, we noticed a youngish woman walking toward us from farther along the path. Another person, walking a medium-sized dog approached her from the same direction we were walking. There was nothing aggressive nor even curious about the dog as it neared the woman, but she forged a wide detour around him, which took her off of the path and onto the grassy area nearby. She resumed her pace on the pathway several meters behind him. It was obvious that she was afraid of dogs, and so we reeled Benny in to allay her concern, and to save her the extra steps. Frank tried to tell her that Benny was quite harmless. Her smile was sweet and apologetic, but her outstretched hands said "Keep away." We respected her fear, and speculated about what may have caused it.

I've seen her several times since that day. A few of those times I had Benny with me, and the woman always walked out of her way to avoid passing too closely to him, and always with that same shy, contrite smile. On the days that we've crossed paths without canine company, her smile was big, bright and relaxed. I feel bad that her life's experiences have molded her in such a way that she is fearful of what may lurk around the next corner, but I admire, and feel inspired by her ability to keep walking these paths despite her fears.

In the late afternoons, I'll often encounter another inspiring woman. She's in her late sixties or early seventies, and uses a walker to get around - the kind with four wheels, a flip-up seat and a frame that partially wraps around the body for support. The paths are hilly and steep enough to require moderate exertion when biking, so I am always quite impressed to see this woman travail as she takes in the sights, and exercise both her body and her will. Occasionally she'll stop, flip down the seat and have a rest, which is when we'll chat for a bit.

One day last week, I saw her resting on the dock, staring out onto the water. The late-day sun was glaring into my eyes, making the small silhouette which caught her attention difficult to see. I squinted more effectively, and focused on and snapped the photo of the fuzzy, yellow gosling shown in the previous post. She offered her theory as to why there was only one offspring. She believed that some other creature has been attacking the rest of the flock at night. She was probably right since I've not seen any sign of young water fowl after that day. I do hope to chat with her at length one day soon. Her spirit and strength is ennobling.

For the last several years, I occasionally encounter a tall, slender man who walks slowly - a large, impressive lens-laden camera hanging heavily from his neck. I would usually rush past him, iPod clipped to my waistband, keeping pace to the music that only I could hear. From time to time, I would catch a glimpse of him - his deliberate saunter drawing him to a bush or by the water, his eyes never losing their locked focus. He was busy observing. If he'd look up, we'd pass each other with a nod and a quiet hello. I was always curious about what he was photographing, but never wanted to intrude on his hunt.

It's no coincidence that his stance is rather birdlike in appearance. It turns out he is one of the best bird photographers I've ever seen. We finally began chatting last summer when I embarked on developing my own interest in photography. Mario is a soft-spoken, intelligent aerospace engineer who immigrated to Canada from his native Romania some years ago. His recently-discovered passion for photography has occupied much of his free time, and he can often be seen tentatively stepping toward the bushes and trees of parks and conservation areas in order to capture that perfect shot. And he always does.

When I don't know what species of bird I've just seen, I know I can find out in a hurry, as Mario would have already seen, photographed and provided information about it days earlier on his site, or readily advise me in a quick exchange of email. He may not know it, but he has inspired me to work harder at attaining better shots by waiting, watching and mostly by learning which creatures can be found just steps away from home.

A few weeks ago, Frank and I were sitting at a picnic table which overlooks the pond, not far from the dock to our right. Coming from that direction, we could hear the distinct sound of a woman's voice singing a gospel song. Glancing toward the dock, we could see a middle-aged black woman, moving rhythmically to the music she created. She knew there were others in the park, but she danced as if she were alone on that dock. She wasn't. Nearby, a white teen-aged boy scurried awkwardly, back and forth between the rail at the edge of the dock, and the grassy area behind it where a tall weeping willow grows. We were drawn toward them.

A closer look told us that the boy was mentally handicapped. He was taking great joy in finding sticks beneath the tree, and running over to the water to toss them in as far as he could. His eyes beamed with pride as we applauded his efforts, and he immediately ran to repeat his ovation-worthy performance. The woman belonged to him - possibly his care-giver or his adoptive mother. Her beautiful smile told us that she too took pride in the applause and admiration that was shown for her impromptu song and dance. Perhaps she sang to help sooth and keep him grounded. Perhaps she sang to help sooth and keep herself grounded.

She explained that the boy could not speak. He could vocalize though, and his enthusiasm mounted with each splash he made in the water below. He'd then turn to us to await our appreciation and encouragement, which we happily delivered. After a short while, he enlisted my help by grabbing me by the hand and running with me to the waters edge to make sure I would see where his stick landed, and applaud the deed. I thoroughly enjoyed our wordless communication. After we said our good-byes, we walked home wondering about the relationship between woman and boy, and marveled at how inspiring it was that they each existed within their own space, doing what it took to keep afloat amid the sticks and debris that were tossed into their respective waters.

I'm looking forward to seeing and chatting with all these inspirational people again throughout the course of this summer.

Below are some photos taken during the past couple of weeks. Please remember to click on them to enlarge.

Before leaving my yard, I noticed this iris bud a day or two before it bloomed.



And these tulips in full bloom.



I'm not sure what this small flower is, but they're growing wild in the park. Water droplets accumulated on its petals shortly after a downpour.



I liked the little crinkle at the top of one of these heart-shaped petals.




This cute little guy looks like he's doing some sort of a Kung Fu-type pose, but the image was snapped the split-second before he turned and ran off.



This young robin was also keeping a watchful eye.



Stopping to enjoy the water fowl, I noticed this chalk drawing on the dock. As indicated, Tanaika is a 14 year old artist who obviously took a liking to one of the Mallards. I'm glad I was able to capture a shot of her art before the rain washed it away.



Generally, our lake is populated with Canada Geese and Mallards and other transient creatures. Occasionally we'll see a few different species of ducks stop by for a day or two, and then move on. This Wood Duck seems to have decided to make this place its home. It's been here since the winter.



This dead tree stands pretty tall and unobscured from view. Its bare branches allow a winter-like look at the birds which perch upon them. The tree came alive with dark silhouettes against the pre-dusk sky. These two appeared to be deep in conversation.



And this loner actually showed up the night before - when it was a little later and a little darker.



I live less than twenty minutes from Toronto's Pearson International Airport. Consequently, there are planes going by every couple of minutes. As this one cruised by overhead, I caught its reflection in the lake below.



And one last airplane (did you notice one in the small photo at the top of the page?), silhouetted against the setting sun, taking off for places unknown. Perhaps it's flying to where you live...