Wild City

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Opening the blinds of our east-facing window this morning, the sun shone right into my eyes. Half blinded I opened the window too, bending down to lean onto the windowsill to feel the early summer morning cool on my skin. I opened my eyes and gasped. One story below, in our shared driveway, stood a red fox. In my shock I called out to my husband and Huxley to come over to see it. The fox heard me too. He looked up and not liking to having drawn the attention of this female human, bolted down towards the back of my neighbours backyard. Ensuring that it wouldn't make a home in the garage where we keep our bikes, I went downstairs, grabbing my camera and barefoot went outside. The grass felt cool and wet against my feet as I slowly walked towards the back of the yard. I saw something move against the back fence. I lifted my camera, but in the shade it was too slow to catch a shot. I looked up, the fox looked right at me. What a powerful moment.

Growing up in Switzerland, foxes where abundant, my dad often talking about them taking the next door farmers chickens. I've seen road kill foxes, stuffed ones in a museum, and I might have seen a life one in a zoo. Animals like foxes have a very earthy energy. Humans tend to dislike them because we associate them with stealing our food. Killing the chickens we want to kill ourselves. Mysterious night creatures they are to me. Beautiful.

The fox bolted between the garage and the fence between my neighbours and our yard, right down the ally towards the street. Huxley had come out into the back yard too and would have loved to see him. I had the camera at the ready, but did not want to charge with Huxley in tow, just in case Fox tried to make a stand.

At the street he slowed down just slightly and that was my chance, a bit blurry, but here you go:

Fox

When we got to the street, he was gone. We tried to see if he might have gone hiding under my neighbours porch – safely of course, but he was gone. Not to be seen. 

Huxley and I know that we might never see him again. The human with the black thing in front of her face might be a deterrent from our yard. Yet again, when we build the summer-hutch for the bunnies, we will always take them inside over night. They certainly would not romance about foxes with me. 

 

Somebody’s got new shoes…

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El Naturalista clogs:

El-naturalista-clog

 

and during the same visit discovered our new Lego Store - all within 30min driving distance. 

That makes one very happy 7 year old boy and one very happy "multiple times 7 yr old" Mami (as I'm called around here – because as I've just been informed, Mom or Mother doesn't sound as much full of love — smart kid, hope he keeps it up)..

More good news: the finger's cast can be off except for heavy lifting or dangerous work (Mothering and Wife-ing doesn't count I as dangerous and heavy work I was told).

Things that need to be improved this coming week: glasses broken for the 3rd time (new frame each time) need to be replaced – probably with a different frame, which is so sad, as I'm loving this one; ruptured ear-drum continues healing; final plantings need to go into the garden; time for doll making, felting and art promo must be created; piles of clean and sun-dried laundry must be folded and put away; farmers market must be visited to see if there are any strawberries yet (or other yummies); somebody must be hired to manage a steady summer weather temperature – the person currently doing the job should be let go.

Off to the laundry-line….

On the Trails

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Living in the middle of a large city with 2,500,000 people has many benefits. Living in a house with a backyard big enough to plant vegetables in this large city is even more special. Harvesting sour cherries of my own tree in the front yard is a dream come true. Going for a very short walk through what is known around here as the "dog-park" with its trees and perspective that shows no other parts of the city is a quick escape in any season. 

Missing from this is a long walk in the forest, not a park, but a real, wooded forest. To have an experience like that we gather up food, water bottles, a first aid kit, swiss army knives, cameras, extra clothes, hiking boots, sunscreen, sunglasses, hats, napkins, snacks. We empty our wallets of too much weight, remember the bug spray. Then we get into the car and drive. And drive. And drive. Usually upwards of an hour to an hour and a half. At the end of this long drive, we get to a part of the Bruce Trail. We calculate a day to go hiking. 

For the swiss-raised child in me, I find this horrific. I grew up in a small town where there was forests around, a short sunday walk entailed almost always a jaunt through the forest, along a stream, sitting down on a bench for a rest. As a snack, we took an apple along, but more often than not, we just put on our shoes and walked out the front door. We'd be back home within a couple of hours. Hiking meant taking a train into the mountains, climbing some hills. We even had a nice "hill" just up north of our town, within walking distance from our front door, with a restaurant on top, a playground and a view that was heart stopping. Still, we never took more than ourselves, and of course my dad and mom brought their money to purchase a drink and a snack up on the hill. 

If I am asked why I live in Canada when I had all the beauty of Switzerland around me, I often reflect that it is the landscape and of course my family and friends that I miss. The mountains, the Sunday afternoon walks, the hikes. Here in Toronto, I have many other things that I could not have there, so I guess the payoff is that it takes a day to go hiking. 

We try to go onto the trail as much as we possibly can. Usually between June and October we manage to go about six to seven times. It is bliss. The forest and the trail does feed my soul and I hope to feed my son's soul there too:

Hux-photo

There is a froggy in this picture, and in the ones he took. 

 

Here are a few of my froggy images:

Froggy-2

Froggy-2

Froggy-1