The Sun Is Out

The nice thing about living next to High Park is that when the heebie jeebies start and one simply must get out of the house, there's a nice place nearby to go.  Earlier today when the "unemployed blues" threatened to engulf me, I grabbed the essentials- camera, MP3 player and knitting - and headed out.  My favourite walk sure looks different than it did in February.  It's all green and babbling now. There's also evidence of the violence of our recent weather.

After the path, and the slope, and the patting of a lovely old dog named Pearl, who would rather sit in the shade with humans than frolic with her own kind on dog hill, I went to the restaurant for a snack.  Normally as I approach the Grenadier on a weekday, all bundled up in my hand knits, with my wellies squelching through the slush, the only other people I meet are the occasional park worker and a few hardy seniors.  Today however, the place was packed.  Dozens and dozens of fleshy, pale humans, many of them pushing strollers, had crammed themselves into tank tops and emerged, blinking, from their winter hideaways to descend upon the sunny patios.  I worried briefly for my sorely needed peace and quiet until I noticed that nobody was choosing tables inside the dining room.  The queue at the counter was long but everyone was going back outside after ordering.
While buying coffee, I was jammed against the counter by two entitled blondes with four toddlers and two seven hundred dollar strollers.  Neither of them looked up or attempted to move themselves or their children as I said "excuse me"  and navigated with my tray through their blockade.  I thought uncharitable thoughts about them all the way to a corner table.  Then I sat listening to music and knitting for an hour until my Zen returned.

Inside

Outside