For what are we thankful?

We drove in for errands in town.
What a precious gift to soak in the colours in our part of the world. As we left the house, we spotted a tour bus, motor booming as the tourists did a tour of our street. A tight turn, but they made it. We wondered if the neighbours were selling tickets to see their tree (right)!

This tree is the reason we must carry our weekly garbage up another 50 steps along the road! I suppose the tree is worth it, and the exercise does not hurt, although our plumber offered a solution that involved his chain saw!

We drove from town, we came around the bend, and eased out from between the pink granite of the rocks. They hug us through this turn, and provide a firm foundation as we rise above the trees. Keeping us in their embrace before we launch above the world and gaze with awe at the view of the forest.

The colours are much more startling than this today, this picture not so recent, but you can imagine that Mighty Gitche Manitou (from the Anishinaabe language: gichi-manidoo) has taken his paint brush, and swept the forest with the reds, burnt umber, ochre, orange, gold, yellow from his pallete.

Red soldiers, wearing their red coats, deeply saddened by the desecration of this land, stand at attention. Green fields rise up, raided of their trees for timber and fuel. In pioneer days, the hardwood stumps would rot in 3 - 4 years; some were hauled out by oxen, the resin-filled pine did not rot easily. Holes filled, farm families would plant wheat, then potatoes, corn, rye. Chickens, pigs, and cows, began to make friends with the coons and beaver, bears, wolves and foxes.

The mighty pines have recently succumbed to the winds of the season and shed a scented carpet of needles. The pines frame the forest, a three-dimensional portrait of that which is beautiful on this earth. Pines, bragging, showing off with the deep green suit coats that provide a deep contrast to the picture.

As we drove, I felt the ghosts of First Nations long gone stood at the side of the road in their regalia.

Their children, the small sumac, generations not to come, now faded. Six nations still fight for survival in this millennium, life on a reservation or in the city, is not an easy one.

There are those who pray that we come to our senses on this planet.
Beaver no longer the plentiful inhabitants of this province; deer, wolf and coyote keep careful watch of their land, many in conflict with humanity. How sad that this changed our geography forever.
Tranportation, including the railway had a huge impact on wildlife and humans, and continues to do so. Roadkill dots the highway. I spotted 3 dead skunks between Port Hope & home (200 km). As we drove in Ottawa, I spotted roadkill deer on highway #416, where it runs through Cedarview forest.

And this sight, as barns fade away, and land usage changes. Many homes are cut out of small family farm land, reducing agricultural land.

I played with the colour, as my perceptions have changed over my time on this planet.

We see shallow souls hell bent for trouble. Two drivers pass two cars in a row, on a double line. I fear - not for me, but for the grief my children will bear.

We sit, shaking their heads, as two speed past, incapable of sufficient respect for us, and awe for this land. All they can see is this, as they speed past us.
We passed a hawk, who nodded in agreement,

What are these people doing to our world?


Fences to keep them out.

Migration patterns changed.

Be respectful this weekend if you plan to travel.

I hope those with family can have a great visit.
Drive safely. Be careful. Somebody out there loves you. You do not want to end up here.

For what are you thankful?