Old Friends

About five years ago, I was given two tickets to see a Simon and Garfunkel concert. I have loved their music since my pre-teen years, but for reasons I won't go into here, I seriously considered not attending. After a week or two of weighing my interest in seeing their performance against the minor, moral stand I could have taken, I decided to ask my cousin, and good friend Marcy to join me. We went out for dinner and then hit the Air Canada Centre in Toronto.

The two-hour show was fantastic. Paul Simon's voice hadn't wavered a bit over the decades and Art Garfunkel harmonized as beautifully as ever. The show started with a video which depicted the last fifty years in America - the period of time the duo had known each other. They made their entrance dressed pretty much as they did back in the sixties and seventies, and though they looked older (particularly Simon) and a bit chunkier (especially Garfunkel), they were clearly every bit the same duo I had always known and loved. They opened with Old Friends, and it sounded wonderful.

They lacked the ease of communication with their audience, though. Garfunkel was a tad more outgoing, smiling from time to time. Any jokes they attempted, felt staged and rigid. They did poke fun at themselves a bit, and their tendency to argue. Simon seemed uncomfortable with their dialogue but their awkwardness melted away when they sang. They continued with Hazy Shade of Winter, I Am a Rock, At the Zoo, and others.

They reminisced about their first performance together at age fourteen, when they were known as Tom and Jerry. They indicated that they had been heavily influenced by the Everly Brothers, who promptly entered the stage and performed four songs of their own. Simon and Garfunkel joined them for their final song - Bye Bye Love.

The Everly Brothers exited, and our star duo sang beautiful renditions of Scarborough Fair and Homeward Bound. The latter was altered dramatically, and used to showcase the other musicians' talents. They rattled off many other hits - among them The Sound of Silence, Slip Sliding Away, El Condor Pasa, Keep the Customer Satisfied, American Tune, My Little Town and ended the set with Bridge Over Troubled Water - performed better than I'd ever heard it before or since. Art was in particularly fine form for that one.

Encore!

After a short wait, they returned on stage with Cecilia and The Boxer. One more exit. One final return to stage for a performance of Leaves That Are Green and The 59th Street Bridge Song.

All was groovy.

Below are a few recent photos which illustrate some of the above-mentioned song lyrics. A description follows the musical snippets. Please remember to click each photo to enlarge.

Can you imagine us years from today,
Sharing a park bench quietly? ~ Old Friends - Paul Simon

After dark, with just a dusting of snow, this park bench still looked inviting. (please click to enlarge)

But look around, leaves are brown now
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter ~ Hazy Shade of Winter - Paul Simon

After a cold week, the pond froze over almost completely, and the tree branches are all but bare. (please click to enlarge)

I am a rock, I am an island. ~ I Am A Rock - Paul Simon

Some flotsam caught up on a rock in the center of the creek's swift current. (please click to enlarge)

Something tells me its all happening at the zoo. The monkeys stand for honesty, Giraffes are insincere. ~ At The Zoo - Paul Simon

This fallen branch caught my eye as we were walking past. I thought it looked like a giraffe having a nap on a bed of leaves. (please click to enlarge)

I'm through with romance. I'm through with love. I'm through with counting the stars above ~ Bye Bye Love - Felice & Boudleaux Bryant

A fiery sunset scorches the sky behind the tree tops. (please click to enlarge)

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt (On the side of a hill in the deep forest green) Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme ~ Scarborough Fair - Paul Simon

Here's a photo that didn't turn out too well, so I played around with it in Photoshop and came up with this painting-like effect. (please click to enlarge)

And every strangers face I see reminds me that I long to be homeward bound ~ Homeward Bound - Paul Simon

Despite the cold days and below-freezing nights, we saw this heron at three different points along the creek. He was skittish, and wouldn't allow us to get too close. This was the last time I saw him, as he took off to hunt unknown shores. (please click to enlarge)

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light that split the night And touched the sound of silence. ~ The Sound of Silence - Paul Simon

While we were driving back to Frank's late one afternoon, we saw this unusual sight in the sky. Though the setting sun was clearly shining brightly, we could see a sort of stunted rainbow just off to its left. I've only ever seen arc rainbows appear opposite the sun - never beside it before. (please click to enlarge)

And I know a man. He came from my hometown. He wore his passion for his woman like a thorny crown ~ Slip Sliding Away - Paul Simon

A cluster of burrs make a striking silhouette against the darkening sky. (please click to enlarge)

I'd rather be a forest than a street. Yes I would. If I could, I surely would. ~ El Condor Pasa - Paul Simon/Jorge Milchberg

Looking back toward Frank's place as we exit the cedar grove on our evening walk. (please click to enlarge)

Gee but its great to be back home. Home is where I want to be. ~ Keep the Customer Satisfied - Paul Simon

One of many cheerful Cardinals which seem to congregate in large numbers now that winter has returned. I'm glad that they consider my home to be theirs too. (please click to enlarge)

I don't know a soul who's not been battered. I don't have a friend who feels at ease. I don't know a dream that's not been shattered. Or driven to its knees Oh, but its alright, its alright. For we lived so well so long ~ American Tune - Paul Simon

A lone, suriviving Queen Anne's Lace silhouetted against the setting sun. (please click to enlarge)

And after it rains theres a rainbow And all of the colors are black Its not that the colors arent there Its just imagination they lack ~ My Little Town - Paul Simon

Here's a closer view of that unusual rainbow, peeking from behind the trees - taken through the open window of a moving vehicle. (please click to enlarge)

I'm on your side. when times get rough And friends just can't be found, Like a bridge over troubled water I will lay me down. ~ Bridge Over Troubled Water - Paul Simon

This photo was taken last year but I couldn't resist how well it suited this song. (please click to enlarge)

After changes upon changes we are more or less the same. After changes we are more or less the same ~ The Boxer - Paul Simon

Just another dead flower taken against the dusky sky. (please click to enlarge)

I threw a pebble in a brook. And watched the ripples run away. And they never made a sound. And the leaves that are green turned to brown. ~ Leaves That Are Green - Paul Simon

Almost dark, the creek looks beautiful with the deep nighttime colours which surround it. (please click to enlarge)

Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you, all is groovy! ~ The 59th Street Bridge Song - Paul Simon

A view of the creek through the trees, early one morning. (please click to enlarge)

Golden Glow

It's been a busy and hectic past couple of weeks, much of which I've spent at Frank's place, so I've had little time to even upload photos from my camera, much less select and organize them for blog posts. This past weekend was also our annual street party. I'll have photos of that once I take some time to sort through them and other images. Until then, I'm posting a few photos taken over the past week or two. As is often the case with the pictures that I like, many were taken in late-day sunshine.

Please remember to click on the photos to enlarge them.



An early evening walk through the cedar grove always provides a plethora of visual treats. This beautiful yellow flower soaked up the last of the sun's rays and took on a glow of its own.



Benny has been busy too these past couple of weeks. He's learned that he can swim. He's hoping that one of us will toss a stick into the creek so that he can go in and fetch it.

So of course, somebody did.



On our way back home from walking, we stopped to sit on a bench for a few minutes. A small flock of ducks flew past us against the backdrop of a golden sky.



As the setting sun lit the sky, it was time head back home.



This is the view from Frank's back deck, when looking down the steps which lead to his patio. Three are some lovely flowers growing in his yard, which his late, estranged wife planted years ago.



Like these.



Glancing to the left, you can see this ivy peeking between the parted slats of the fence.



Some Clematis deadheads created an interesting silhouette against the darkening sky.



Back home at my place, a young Black Crested Night Heron hides amid the branches of a nearby tree.



For several days now, at Frank's place and mine, we've caught sight of one, or a pair of these wonderful birds.



This one is more mature, and was spotted on this concrete structure at the edge of the dam.



This Monarch Butterfly soaks up the last of the sun's rays. The right side of his wing appears to be torn.



When the day is done, we pull up a couple of chairs on the balcony, light a candle and pour a bit of Irish Mist over ice. The perfect ending to a golden week.

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...