This was my first waterfall experience in Hamilton and only the second in Canada (Niagara Falls was the first of course!).
I could not get close to photographing the waterfall itself from the front, partly due to lack of determination and partly because I did not want to hold back others with my enthusiasm for a good photograph.
The best close up I could get:
Later when I went back near the top of the fall, I saw a ‘proper’ photographer with his tripod and all the right gear standing near the front of the fall and snapping away pictures of the fall. I wish for all the right things too.
As we walked the stretch of the Bruce Trail that goes along the Grindstone Creek, the green was very green, the air fresh and the flow of the creek was soothing to the spirit.
If I could, I would go here every weekend!
I’ve been working five days a week at the coffee chain. I find my words and creativity drowning and on weekends if I allow them, they come back to the surface – still alive.
I was looking at trees out of a bus window one of the previous days and realized how two trees growing in the shade of each other often look like one tree, but with two trunks.
Here’s a love quote (partly relevant to the earlier thought):
“Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.”
We are snowed in, here in Canada. My sibling, 13 years of age, says he hates the snow. Says it’s polluted with chemicals (seems he took the school lesson on pollution to heart).
A friend 33 years of age asks if the kids played outside in the snow. Says that was a favorite thing to do and it was exhilarating to throw balls of snow at each other.
I look out of the window at the snow that’s falling and play guitar for four hours straight. At 23, I am regaining the ‘child’ in me.
The children at home don’t look outside. The blinds are closed and the backs are turned. They do their homework for most of the day.
The photos are of their cousins in Sri Lanka. They run, smile, and throw sticks at nothingness. There might be some pollution in the paddy fields.
I don’t know what’s the point of this blog post. Except, maybe; If I ever have a kid myself, I would like them to have access to the natural world. I will take them out, show them that screens aren’t the only places to find play.