Joy in the Summer Sun

8 August 2015 – Cloudy as I set out on today’s walk, but sunny by the time I hit Danforth & head east. I realize I have unwittingly landed myself in “Taste of The Danforth” — an annual fiesta that stretches many blocks, the street closed to traffic for the occasion.

I am at first annoyed. Street festivals, I tell myself grumpily as I navigate the hordes, have degenerated into nothing better than pop-up, outdoor shopping malls. Brand-name food, drink & mountains of stuff, all being hawked in every direction. Ka-ching.

Where is the charm, the humanity, the connection, the joy?

And then I see it.

Making bubbles, & magic, at "Taste of the Danforth"

He is totally happy, that little one, safe in daddy’s arms, making magic with his own chubby fist every time he squeezes the pump-bottle.

You forgive a lot of hokum, for a moment like that.

Many blocks and a couple of hours later, I’m farther east, farther south, following an alley that I hope will show me something interesting.

A great burst of street art, perhaps?

No such luck. Only some stupid scribbles.

Just when I’m getting sulky again, I see this … smack at a grubby intersection.

alley sunflowers in Leslieville

The gift of some guerrilla gardener, presumably — see the twine holding the stalk in place?

More joy.


I know, I promised you a post about the 100th-anniversary celebrations on Dorval Island. Since then, I’ve come down from the euphoria of the weekend, and remembered that few things are more boring than somebody else’s reunion. So I shall simply tell you that it was wonderful, and save the details for family.

Leave a comment


  1. Just love your tongue in cheek comments about the Festival – so true! The image of the little boy just so happy and proves we always need to keep our cameras with us!

    • a very lucky shot — my camera is slow, so I was lucky the situation held & the sun was at the right angle relative to my own…

  2. Thank you

  3. Susan

     /  10 August 2015

    You didn’t stop for a coffee. x


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    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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