spring at home...

On Tuesday, J and I left our apartment for the first time in more than a week – we really needed to breathe some fresh air and feel a little open space around us. It was unusually quiet in the park. We saw a few people walking dogs or jogging, all of them paying attention to the new rules of social distancing. We sat, enjoyed the fresh breeze, soaked up some sunshine, and sipped hot coffee from our thermos. And what a difference that quiet hour beside the lake made! As the song says, "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

Lake Ontario from Len Ford Park in Toronto

This little guy seemed to be wondering where all the
people (and peanuts) went. He ventured close to
beg a treat. Sorry. No nuts here.

In Toronto, as in most places around the world, all but essential businesses are closed because of COVID-19. We've all been asked to stay at home except for essential outings to pick up supplies from the grocery store or pharmacy, or for occasional walks where social distancing is possible. J and I have, so far, been fortunate to have delivery service available, so we've been able to avoid crowds and lines. This bounty came from a local start-up, a brother and sister whose graphic design business had to shut down. They partnered with one of their clients to make fresh food deliveries in our area. It's every bit as delicious as it looks. We were able to share some, some went into the freezer, and some will be on the table for our Easter dinner. 

Fresh delivery from eateasypeasy.com - yum!

Easter Sunday will mark 28 days of shelter-at-home for us. A few hours ago, I looked out the window and saw a splash of bright yellow in the garden. The forsythia is blooming! I can't get out to take a photo, but it was a happy reminder that spring really has arrived and, even though our lives are necessarily very altered right now, the world carries on and nature is full of miracles.

Wishing you and your families all the blessings of spring and may your holiday celebrations be joyful (but apart). As Toronto's favourite medic, Dr. Eileen de Villa, tells us every day: "Stay home, stay safe, and take care of each other."  

Daffodils at Centennial Park Conservatory in Toronto,
March 7, 2020 - just before the park closures.

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stillpoint... blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

   

cherry blossom time...

In the spring of 1959, the citizens of Tokyo, Japan made a gift of two thousand Sakura cherry trees to the people of Toronto as thanks for Canadian support of Japanese refugees after WWII. The little trees found a new home in High Park, thus beginning a springtime tradition in our city: cherry blossom time. 

I'm a couple or few years older than those cherry trees, born and raised in Toronto, but until this week I've never had the chance to see the trees in bloom. What a magical sight it is! 

My friend and I set our alarms for oh-gosh-thirty on Monday morning and made our way through rush-hour traffic to arrive at High Park a few minutes past eight. The parking lots were already busy, the grassy slopes full of people with cameras, people walking, people gazing up at the masses of pale pink petals in mute admiration. (There was even a bride with her photographer – lovely dress but no competition for the absolute perfection overhead.) 

Cherry blossoms on the hill, High Park, Toronto

Click on any photo to see larger version. (Images will open in new window.)

The vista over Grenadier Pond seemed stark as we emerged from the tunnel of blossoms but we soon discovered more signs of spring along the pathways... a gorgeous pair of Merganser ducks on the pond, daffodils blooming in pretty clumps, early flowers in sheltered suntraps, and – my favourite – riots of brilliant yellow forsythia.

Our rambles eventually lead us to the famous High Park Zoo, a Toronto institution since 1893. The zoo made news world-wide last year when the resident Capybaras escaped and went walkabout for most of the summer. Bonnie and Clyde are safely home now with three sweet babies as a reminder of their "summer of love". ;-) I've got lots of zoo pictures (including some of the Capybabies) to share next time, so be sure to check back. Meanwhile, happy spring!

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stillpoint... blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

where's the sun?

As I publish this post, my countdown to spring stands at 53 days. That's nearly 1,272 more hours of shivers and gloom. I need me some sunshine! But since a trip to the tropics isn't in the cards this year, I did the (almost) next best thing and visited the Centennial Park Conservatory where just about everything is blooming and cheerful.

Gorgeous Amaryllis

Bird-of-Paradise

Aloe Vera

Kalanchoe

Just a small part of the massive display of Cyclamen - beautiful!

These guys wanted sunbeams, too, but no luck. 

I felt much better after communing with the flowers for a while, even though the sun never did make an appearance. We're in for a long stretch of sunless days here in Toronto and I can feel myself growing more quiet and withdrawn by the hour. I may have to retrieve my SAD therapy lamp from the back of the closet and bask in some artificial rays. 

How do you beat the mid-winter blues?

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

Is it a bird?

What would you say if I asked you to name your favourite flower? I'm guessing many people would choose roses or daffodils, perhaps peonies or iris. My own choice, without a moment's hesitation, would be lily-of-the-valley. 

A good friend once surprised me by picking bird-of-paradise as their best-loved bloom. At the time, I wasn't sure I'd even heard of such a fabulous plant, let alone seen one. But that was before I moved to my west Toronto condo, a short trek away from Centennial Park and one of the city's loveliest conservatories. I walk there often. 

Last week, rounding a corner in the lush tropical house, I came face to face with this spectacular specimen.

Bird-of-Paradise (Strelitzia), also known as Crane Flower (you can see why!), is native to South Africa. Isn't it glorious? Almost as fierce and flamboyant as the friend who loves it!

So... what's your favourite flower?

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

It's May!

Instead of a story post this week, I'm sharing a few of my reasons for celebrating this merry month of May – the very best month of the year.

Lily-of-the-Valley blooms in May. It's always been my favourite flower, delicately beautiful and sweetly fragrant. In the language of flowers, lily-of-the-valley means "return of happiness" – the very definition of spring.

I was born in May, so my birthstone is the emerald, a glorious green and glowing crystal, considered the symbol of hope and love.

My mother's family name was May. Here's the clan in 1923, all looking a bit grim, no doubt because this photo was not taken in the merry month of May. My grandfather is the handsome fellow second from the right in the back row. (Bow ties are cool!) I can see myself in my grandfather's face. Grandma is seated directly in front of him, holding my Mom. 

In my part of the world, May means the end of a long winter and the return of balcony weather. Finally! Sam likes nothing better than watching birds, sniffing the breeze, and interrupting my reading every five minutes to open the door so he can go in… no, out… no, in… (Note to self: get a cat flap.)

This year, May marks the first anniversary of my retirement from The Day Job. A job which, much as I loved it, left precious little time for reading, writing, and long walks on the beach. I've spent an enjoyable year trying to catch up on all three but there are so many books and so many unwritten words … and the beaches! I shall soldier on.

This May also marks a full year of weekly Wednesday blogging and nearly a year of my every-other-week project, The Write Spot. It's been a good blogging year – a busy blogging year – so I've decided to take a break this week to relax, recharge, and concentrate on getting my favourite month off to a memorable start. Which begs the question: if I blog about why I'm not blogging does it still count as a blog? ;-)

I'll be back next Wednesday to share The Write Spot with Louisa Treger, author of the wonderful historical novel, The Lodger. If you haven't read it, you really, really should. (Here's my review.) 

Wishing you May flowers and sunshine … and May the Fourth be with you!

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

oh, traitorous nose!

Close your eyes and sniff:

Photo by Marisa DeMeglio | CC-BY-2.0

On second thought, don't close your eyes. Just gaze upon the pretty lilacs and let your olfactory memory go to work.

For many people, the image alone will be enough to trigger a vivid scent memory, a scent likely to conjure thoughts of springtime, sunshine, warm breezes and gentle rain.

I should be so lucky.

Oh, the lilac image does trigger a scent memory for me, no doubt about that. But no sweetly perfumed breezes come to mind. Instead, my traitorous nose conjures a dank and earthy funk.

It all began on a warm spring afternoon in 1986. Friends and family had been invited to the farm for a celebration of my parents' wedding anniversary. After days of intense preparation, the feast was ready. Our little house looked bright and fresh as could be. Even our three rambunctious sons had been scrubbed clean. As party hour drew near, I took a moment alone to admire the table. Set with grandma May's treasured Limoges china and our special occasion crystal glassware, it sparkled, ready for company.

"Mom!" The screen door slammed and middle son bounded into the house looking slightly less scrubbed than I remembered. "Dad wants to know if—"

He fell suddenly silent, his smile fading away and his nose wrinkling. Before I could ask what was wrong, he took a giant step back and said, in a horrified tone, "It smells bad in here, Mom."

As I moved to join him in the hallway, I caught a whiff of it, too. And there was no mistaking that smell. Dead mouse.

Mice are an inescapable fact of country life and, for the most part, we chose to live and let live, as long as the mice chose wisely and stayed outside. Inside, they were rodent non grata and definitely not welcome at our party, dead or alive.

Middle son rounded up his brothers and we organized a search. The odour was strongest in the front hall and near the cellar stairs but despite poking, prodding, and sniffing in every possible nook and cranny we had no luck finding the stinky culprit. Our guests were due to arrive in less than an hour. The smell was growing stronger by the minute. What to do?

The day was warm, with a gentle, steady breeze, so my first step was to open all the windows. That's when middle son remembered what he'd been sent to ask me. "Do you want Dad to cut some lilacs for the house?"

Yes! Our lilac hedge had some of the most aromatic flowers I'd ever encountered. Their sweet, long-lasting fragrance was exactly what we needed to disguise the presence of a not-so-dearly departed mouse. While I pulled out every vase I could find, plus a few big mason jars for good measure, the boys helped their dad cut lilacs. Masses and masses of lilacs. We placed them in the front hallway, beside the cellar door, in the living room and sunroom—even in the bathroom. They looked lovely and, more important, they smelled lovely… like springtime.

The party was a success—great company, good food, happy times. Everyone loved the lilacs. We even sent bunches home with a few people. Only later, with windows closed against the cool evening air, did the scent of mouse begin to insinuate itself again, mingling with the fragrance of cut lilacs until the two smells became one.

Days passed. As the flowers faded, so did their fragrance. The smell of death faded, too, and we never did find the mouse. Its dry bones remain entombed forever inside the walls of that old house.

Liam Moloney | CC-BY-SA-2.0

The following year when the first lovely lilacs burst into bloom in our garden, I was eager to visit them, to bury my face in the pale purple flowers and revel in the scent of springtime. That's when I first discovered the awful olfactory truth. And thirty years later, that truth still applies. For me, the sweet, heady perfume of lilacs will always carry a base note of mouse.

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Mouse image by George Shuklin | CC-BY-SA-1.0

stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

photos of 2015

Since retiring from The Day Job in May of 2015, I've tried to make a habit of carrying my camera wherever I go. As you might imagine, this has resulted in an ever-expanding photo library and plenty of story inspiration. Over the holidays, I took some time to look through all those images of people, places and beautiful things, and chose a few favourites to share. (Click to enlarge.)

Apple blossoms at Colonel Samuel Smith Park on Lake Ontario in Toronto. I love the way the focus "pops" on this one. And the colours of spring!

This male Mallard duck, kept a close eye on me as he paddled. I realized later that his mate was sleeping nearby, perfectly camouflaged by beach pebbles. I can't help but smile when I see those little orange feet and the reflected sparkle of sun-warmed water on his breast.  

Old man turtle found a sunny spot to lounge by the pond in the conservatory at Centennial Park in Toronto. Just look at that smug expression. Turtles play an important part in Rock Solid, so I'm a real sucker for a guy in a handsome shell.

This gorgeous blue heron was fishing in the Grand River in Cambridge, Ontario while I lunched with a friend at a riverside restaurant. He did eventually catch a little fish and gobble it down. Not far away, this fisher woman kept him company. She didn't seem to be having much luck, though. 

No filters on this photo - that's exactly how the river looked. Fast water and lots of reflection. I love the effect!

Lake Ontario at the Village of Wellington in Prince Edward County. A storm blew through the night before and remnant winds and waves made walking a bit wild. My favourite beach weather!

Purple mystery flowers. That's not botanical, it really is a mystery. If anyone can identify this lovely plant, please let me know in the comments. Not native to my part of the world, this was taken in the tropical house at Toronto's Centennial Park Conservatory. UPDATE, January 8, 2016: Thanks to blog visitor Bec and Facebook commenter Ian who identified this lovely plant as Duranta Sapphire Showers.

I snapped several photos of this handsome Ring-billed Gull at Long Branch Park in Toronto. I like the movement in this shot and call it "on patrol". He seems to be marching to his own drummer.

No collection of favourites would be complete without a portrait of himself, Sam the Cat. Here, he's intently focussed on something only he can see. Fierce concentration. (Spooky.)

Lake Ontario on a sunny winter day. I marvel at how swans, ducks and other water fowl seem so unruffled by cold. This photo captured a drop of water just as it fell from the swan's beak. Elegant profile.

Back to Centennial Park Conservatory for this last image from 2015. The Christmas flower show featured spectacular displays of poinsettias but my eye was drawn to this glorious candy cane amaryllis.

My photo goals for 2016 are (1) to seek the unusual and (2) to cultivate patience. The patience part will, I hope, result in a few more successful bird photos. Thus far, I've been mostly foiled by their tendency to watch me point and focus, then flit away (laughing) just as I click the shutter. Maybe I'll have more luck if I pick my spot and settle in quietly to wait and watch. Well... worth a try.

Wishing you a 2016 full of beautiful things.

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington

  

flower power...

Turn the clock back nine months to February 27th, 2015. Here in Toronto, it was beginning to feel as if winter would never end. Temperatures hovered around minus 25 Celsius, snow and slush lined the roads, sidewalks were slick with ice. At home, Samcat had settled into hibernation mode atop his favourite radiator, and I was battling a gloom-inducing case of SAD.

That last Friday of February dawned clear and (no surprise) bitingly cold. But the sky was a crisp, cloudless blue and the sun shone brightly for the first time in more than a week. Being a red-blooded Canadian woman, I seized the opportunity, bundled up in parka and boots, and went shopping. Shoes? Books? No. I hit the local garden centre. When it comes to fighting the February blahs, there's nothing like a touch of the tropics and, as my mother always said, if you can't go south, go for fresh flowers and hothouse humidity.

I browsed for a while, not really intending to buy, until I encountered the orchid display – a glorious riot of purple, white, and yellow blooms – with (bonus!) everything on sale. The choice was easy: a sunny yellow Moth Orchid (Phalaenopsis), sporting a bright pink centre that reminded me of a funny, smiling face. I hurried the little Phal home, double-wrapped in a paper cone as protection from the cold. With luck, it would last through March, maybe even into April, a cheerful presence on my dining room table. 

In fact, the hardy little orchid held its blooms until the end of May. After so many months of pleasure, I couldn't bring myself to dispose of it, so when the last bloom dropped, I found a place for the pot on a table out on the balcony and… well, pretty much forgot about it.

Once upon a time, I had a kitchen with two enormous, west-facing windows, each with the kind of broad sill perfect for coaxing all sorts of plants to bloom, or bloom again. Those sunny window sills are the one thing I really miss in my condo. There's simply no good spot for growing a houseplant that wants a lot of light. So, if I can't give it away, a plant past its bloom will eventually wind up sad and spindly in the green bin. (Fact: Nobody wants an orchid past its bloom.) But I'm SO glad I didn't hurry to bin this one. Just look at what greeted me on August 1st!

Three weeks later, by August 19th, my little Phal pal had produced a total of seven lovely flowers on a sturdy new branch off the original spike. I'm equally glad I didn't hurry to trim that spike.

Super Phal is back indoors now, and still going strong. This next photo was taken less than a week ago on November 19th. I won't be a bit surprised if some of the blooms last through Christmas – but no matter when the final flower drops, this little beauty isn't going anywhere. Not even if I have to build a special shelf to hold it. 

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stillpoint is the blog of Canadian author Cheryl Cooke Harrington