Ep 15.2: Walking to the Sea - Dissonance

On Parker Street, I stumbled upon a little fence that struck me. The property owners had left some woody trees untouched, building their fence between them. This seemed a reasonable and respectful compromise with nature, preserving the existing landscape while still defining boundaries.

This scene contrasted sharply with my home city's approach to urban development. There, in pursuit of Western-style progress, swaths of greenery were often replaced with concrete and glass. I'm more accustomed to seeing trees completely removed, replaced by their processed, undead relatives. The sight of fences accommodating living trees was a refreshing first for me.

I crossed an intersection, heading through Parkcrest-Aubrey towards Kensington Park.

Parkcrest-Aubrey, at first glance mundane, revealed rich details upon closer inspection. People expressed their individuality (and socio-economic status) with the land outside their homes. Some resembled modernist boxes with finely manicured lawns, very Taylorist in their efficiency.

Others were more extravagant, with greenery adorning every possible part of the home. I particularly enjoyed the garden gnomes and the sculptural fountains which had an Italian vibe. Some homes had made more unorthodox design choices, placing unexpected artifacts on their lawns. I encountered some particularly interesting examples:

At Kensington Park, I followed the west-facing fence before realizing it wouldn't lead me inside. I turned back to face the part that would get me in. En route, I tripped on something. When I looked down to see what had tripped me, I faced a very pretty view, roots from one of the nearby hardwood trees. There are cathedrals everywhere for those with legs to trip.

I climbed up the hill and found myself in the park. I followed a gravelly trail towards the stream, past a few elderly people holding clubs. I take it they’re headed to Pitch & Putt courses in this park as well.

When I finally reached the stream, I was taken aback by what I saw. Unlike the first creek, which was tucked away in a secluded natural setting, this one ran exposed and close to park facilities. It seemed less vibrant, and while some parts of it flowed, the section before me appeared stagnant with dark matter — decaying organics or possibly pollution?

While I could appreciate its raw, unmanicured beauty, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy comparing it to the creek from earlier. This was a good illustration of nature’s diverse states within the city.

Mulling over these thoughts, I began to make my way out of the park. It was then that I spotted a little crow walking alongside me. In my mind, I wondered if this crow was also on a similar quest. Here was a creature with the gift of flight, yet it chose to walk as if wanting to know the earth more intimately with its feet.

Amused by this thought, I approached, half-expecting to exchange travel stories. The crow, unsurprisingly, was flustered by my presence and scurried off. “Not the talking type”, I mused to myself. “Just like me.”

With a silent farewell to my imagined kindred spirit, I continued on my journey out of the park, my thoughts already turning to the next stream that awaited me in the woods, just past Hastings Street.