7:30 am Monday, October 18, 2021 

Before I head out, Jill Dempsey announces it’s 7 degrees. There are no better morning companions than Jill, Ismaila, and their radio colleagues on CBC’s Metro Morning. Sometimes Jill’s cheeriness is just a bit cloying though. But today she’s given me the green light to don the coat I bought it nearly two years ago on my November 2019 European vacation. I didn’t realize then that (a) it would be my last trip to Europe in a very long time and (b) only other early morning walkers in Weston would ever get to see this great coat. A delayed flight afforded me a bonus day in Lisbon and in a vintage shop I found the sartorial unicorn- a coat that I liked, was affordable, and fit me. I returned to Canada imagining wearing it in the spring. Then COVID and so it’s been around the block only a time or two - literally.  

I leave the house chuffed with my Portuguese finery and smile as I hear those darned birds in my neighbour’s tree at it again. It’s the Tim Horton’s of trees - attracting a klatch of chirpers every morning. I ask Bidi and Molly “why that tree, girls? Why do they want to be in that tree and not that other tree over there, or there?” Bidi and Molly quietly consider my question as they pee in their favourite morning spot, offering up no theory. I know though - community is everywhere, even in nature. 

With Number 1 out of the way for both of them, it starts to rain gently. Damn. Wrong coat for this, but I’m confident it won’t last. I see bright sky in every direction except the one directly in front of me where, against the dark clouds, spectrum of colour displays shows from horizon to horizon. Molly’s back rises in an arch as if to imitate the rainbow. I stoop for her poop, inadvertently glancing behind me and what!? - a red sky in the east! Rainbow - warning - which message would a sailor rely on? It doesn’t really matter; after this walk, I will spend my day indoors. I keep moving, drawing my collar up as the rain becomes more persistent. Despite the damp, I need to get more steps in and I need Number 2 from dog #2. 

We continue our usual route. Bidi poops in her regular spot. I nod at two health care workers from the hospital up the street, same as yesterday and the day before, and say “hi” to three other dog owners on autopilot in their pre-work-from-home walk. All’s right with the world. 

But hang on! New flyers. I cross the street to read one. “A SMALL TOWN WITH A BIG PROBLEM.” Someone’s horrified that a few houses flanking the local hospital will be turned into “rooming/halfway house for profit without community consultation.” WTF? Time for some research. 

7:30 a.m., Tuesday, October 19, 2021

We’re out again. This time, I’ve added scarf and gloves to my Portuguese coat. Jill’s told me it will hit 20 today but it’s far from it now.

I follow our usual course, greeting the Tims gang in their favourite tree as the girls empty their overnight bladders on cue. We nod at a couple of moms with carriages. Moms are nervous around Bidi, making assumptions about her character because of her muscular build and her blue eyes that pierce like lasers. 

It reminds me of the NIMBYism seen yesterday. People assume things. I now know LOFT, a supportive housing provider, will tenant five houses up the street with people with mental health disabilities looking for safe, supportive housing. In a housing crisis made worse by a pandemic, it seems a small thing our community can offer. I look around as I walk - how many of these other houses are occupied with people whose mental health has slipped during the pandemic and who do not have access to the supports LOFT provides its tenants? Or who have absolutely no support at all? Why is the neighbourhood not afraid of them? Or for them?  

As I round the final corner to my house, I look left into my neighbour’s yard where last night, someone saw a black fox. How funny I think it might be still here - but I look nonetheless. A black fox - I would love to see one. This neighbourhood is full of wonders. 

7:30 a.m., October 20, 2021

I hear the birds greet each other in the same tree as I leave the house. I smile. They ignore me. 

I think about the nasty stain spreading further into the fabric of Weston. The flyers are advancing north to new streets and appear now in all colours which, but for the hateful, hurtful message, could be seen as autumnal. I’m tempted to grab a marker and deface each one with a new tagline: A SMALL TOWN WITH A BIG PROBLEM AND A SMALL HEART.  A SMALL TOWN WITH A BIG PROBLEM: NIMBYISM;  A SMALL TOWN WITH A BIG PROBLEM: NASTY, SMALL-MINDED PEOPLE; A SMALL TOWN WITH A BIG PROBLEM: POVERTY AND A HOUSING CRISIS.

Like many with a social conscience, I feel the tug between not wanting to shock my neighbours by publicly expressing a contrary view and wanting to use my advocacy skills to attempt to sway them. I’m stuck. 

7:00 a.m., October 21, 2021

I’m 30 minutes earlier than usual and my favourite tree is silent. I wonder if it’s the gentle rain that keeps them silent or maybe they have another local tree they use for this time slot. 

I move on. Bidi and Molly comply with being quick with their morning routines. I walk silently and as the rain picks up, I move my raincoat hood to the “up” position. The rain drums on the fabric. I silently recite Portia’s soliloquy “the quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven upon the earth below.**” Did I get that right? Is it still OK to quote Shakespeare despite some properly outdated notions? Is the Merchant of Venice even still taught? Is there a big umbrella blocking mercy from Weston right now as the postings have spread even further? Am I even using that quote in the right context? 

Walking is such a wonderful time for thinking.

7:30 a.m., October 22, 2021

Back to my regular time - no need to be at my desk extra-early today. The birds welcome me as they always do. So do a couple of neighbours. I reflect on the first part of that flyer - A SMALL TOWN - and think about how much I like small town living, to my surprise. It’s nice to know, especially as a single person, that others have my back. I feel warm, despite the fall-like temperatures. 

I walk on in that quiet reverie. Then I hear a car start up in the driveway right beside me. I look, as I always do, to be sure the driver has seen us. In the early morning, drivers are often distracted anticipating the commute, or worse, too tired to notice. There is no-one in the driver’s seat. Damn, all that goodwill I felt extinguished in an instant. Autostart on a day when the weather is well above freezing? Does no-one ever think about climate change and the need to change the way we live? New outrage. 

* Not in my backyard 

** I know now I’ve got the quote a little wrong but this is the passage as I remembered it from grade 11 English. Not bad for 40 years.