Painting the night

drizzle

Missing the slush (not my photo)

Stepping up from the drizzling darkness that changed snow to slush at my feet, I climbed onto the bus, swallowed by the jaundiced warmth to join my fellow riders, isolated from the world in their cocoons of rayon, wool and leather.

Taking a seat as the bus pulled away from the curb, I too slowly descended into mental torpor, an oblivious partner on a journey across the east end of town, the warm companionship of time spent with a friend leaching from my body like the heat of a dying ember.

But before I entered my traveler’s coma, a brief flash forced its way onto slumbering retinas, drawing my attention to the window beside me. And yet, I saw little other than the salined grime of the city that blocked my view of the houses that I knew rolled past in the darkening night.

grimy-window

A veil of sodden salt and grime blinded me

And then another flash. Or perhaps it was a splash.

Ready now, I waited and watched, and was soon rewarded with flares of green and orange and red and white. An aurora transportis dazzled my eyes, unheard musical notes traversing my optic nerve to tickle my brain.

And as quickly as those colours had passed, white puddles of light twinkled at shoulder height, blebbing through the mire; abstract art painted from the other side of a translucent canvas for my pleasure.

Reds, blues, whites mingled with greens, mauves and yellows. Or blinked out of existence altogether, only to reappear elsewhere before my eyes. Multi-hued ballerinas and dervishes spinning without purpose; colour without design; existence the only goal.

splash

Image doesn’t really capture the diffractive dance

As my conscious brain finally arose from its slumber, awaken by the visceral tarantella that stomped the grey matter, I began to understand what I was seeing.

The salted matting that covered the bus windows could not hold back the shine of the many porch lights, Christmas lights, headlights and street lights that I passed on my journey, instead providing myriad prisms through which the photons waved their many lengths.

The very mire that weighted and closed my world was the vector through which the display existed to dazzle.

Unfortunately, consciousness came at a price as my understanding of what I was seeing meant that I now saw what I understood. And although the display continued until I reached my destination, it was slightly dimmed as mental clarity broke through grimed windows.

But even as I mourn the loss, I am warmed by the memory, and even if I never experience it again, I have been changed by my journey through a tunnel of light and colour.

Bombast of Victoria Day – part two

As promised, a few more shots of colour and fire from Monday’s Victoria Day celebrations along the eastern Beaches of Toronto.

See also:

Bombast of Victoria Day – part one

Bombast of Victoria Day – part one

Although not officially summer, the Victoria Day Weekend (aka May 2-4 weekend) signals the beginning of warmer weather and summer breezes in much of Canada. It is the weekend that everyone starts to plant their gardens, and when people abandon the big city for cottage country.

It is also the first of two weekends of fireworks (the other being July 1, Canada Day), and I am fortunate enough to live down the beach from one of the biggest fireworks shows in Toronto. Here are a handful of shots (blasts) from last night.

Falling into autumn

Last week, I took my camera out to catch a glimpse of nearby Toronto’s Kew Gardens and the fading remnants of our Remembrance Day commemorations.

Sidewalking

Of to visit with a friend at a local baconery (not bakery, but baconery…a restaurant called Rashers dedicated solely to bacon) and decided to take my camera with me, catching some of the gardens and a surprise guest along the way.

A spot of colour in a B/W world

Oh no! I discovered a new toy…well, new to me.

Using Lightbox, I’ve learned how to convert a photo to black & white and then return to the colour to one or more component of the photo.

And now I’m distracted all to hell. And worse, a friend has a shopping list of images she wants for her apartment.

So, if you don’t hear from me for a while, at least you’ll know why.

PS Who knew all those colouring books would come in handy!?

Spring’s release

ux96cj-l-610x610-dress-floral-backless-floral-dress-summer-dress-open-back-summer-flowers-cute-clothing-pink

Greys and browns slowly release

Their deathly grip on our souls.

Minor moments of colour—

Red, orange, green, yellow—

Poke out weary heads,

Finding welcome, seizing hope.

Splashes grow to puddles,

Puddles into deluge,

And the world is bathed

In chromatic bliss.

Spring lines have arrived.

Can the sales be far behind?

(Image is property of owner and is used here without permission, but appreciation.)