20 July 2024 – Not the elegant, intricate shadow play of the wayang kulit puppets that entranced me many decades ago on Lombok (Indonesia). No, instead, the very humble shadow play that entranced me yesterday, in the sun-baked heat of a deserted school yard.

Right here.

Looking east as I walk north on Main Street: strong schoolyard structures that, in the absence of any children, have only their own shadows to play with.

I veer in, I join the game.

To my left, the sprawling complex of General Brock Elementary School. It is named for Sir Isaac Brock, one of the British generals who, with British troops, Upper Canadian Militia and — crucially — Mohawk Nation chiefs & warriors, defeated American attempts to conquer British North America during the War of 1812. (Should you want to plunge down that historical rabbit-hole, you might start with this Canadian Encyclopedia entry.)

My thoughts are neither with Asian puppetry nor with General Brock. They are, as I step farther into the school grounds, entirely with the shadows.

The basketball hoop standard looms large over what seems a very timid shadow…

but I view it from another angle and up close. Then the shadow asserts its own sassy presence.

The lattice work on the prosaic fence to the right throws lacy relief onto the pavement…

and the wild morning glory blossoms, rampaging on that fence, sulk because they have no shadows to play with.

Pretty indeed, but I don’t linger.

My eyes & mind are already back on the playground, where a disc-swing and its supports dance with the wood chips below.

A ring-seat goes all circular…

and blocky cubes go all angular…

and by then I’m at a left-turn option. Pavement leads me around the back of the building…

toward the raised garden beds and more playground beyond.

The raised beds, signage tells me, comprise the General Brock School Food Garden — this school’s participation in the SPEC School Garden Program, which in turn is part of the larger SPEC mandate to promote urban sustainability.

Between those garden beds, now tidily put away for summer, run a couple of hopscotch grids. Smack-dab in the noon-day sun, they have no children to play with, and no available shadow, either.

Except mine!

So I oblige.