I don’t see dead people but I’ve certainly been seeing my share of dead birds lately. This latest pigeon was bludgeoned in the Woodlawn Schoolyard off Westmorland Road this past Sunday evening on April 29th.
At first I thought it was just a bunch of feathers strewn across the green but upon closer inspection the carcass was fresh and dripping with blood. My co-walker and myself were certainly grossed out as I kneeled to get a closer look.
I think the stray cats or hawks or eagles in the neighborhood are attacking!
On a brighter note… the grass is certainly growing green on this side these days!
Before the rains came over this last week and began turning most everything green we set out in the mid-evening crossing Bayside Drive and entered into the mouth of the Marsh Creek area where it meets the Bay of Fundy on foot along the railway tracks. We walked along and then down to the shore on the North side of the Courtenay Bay Causeway during low-tide.
A herd of deer that live down here, however, all we caught were their white bums skipping away from us as we approached them. They moved away too fast for me to capture them on film.
There is a copious amount of plastic debris washing up on the shore from the ocean… including the little pink pig, syringes, plastic bags, bottles and thousands upon thousands of tampon applicators. Use a menstral cup already women.
Before the Courtenay Bay Causeway was built this area was home to the largest shipbuilding operation in Eastern Canada and remnants of that bygone era remain here to this day. This area was a tidal ocean front beach where even my Dad used to play when he was a kid.
Even with the plastics dotting the grassy marsh it’s still pristine and relatively untouched by human hands.
When you look West you can see the beginning of Uptown Saint John (Central City) and the South End Peninsula.
During the next few years an amazing restoration will be taking place… The Marsh Creek area is being restored, cleaned up and made fit for human consumption again. Bike and walking trails with elevated decks and lookouts will be added.
Many different species of birds and wildlife call this area home including this decapitated seagull.
At sunset we began making our way back East.
And at dusk we walked back into the hood.
Growing up, we all walked everywhere, biked or rode the bus to get from point A to B. We were all in shape.
Recently, I’ve begun walking and hiking through the back fields, railroad tracks and forgotten lands, that I used to travel through when young, with a wonderful person who enjoys walking them as much as I do.
These are some photo’s from our latest trek. You can see the largest oil refinery in Canada in the distance while the fog rolls in from the Courtenay Bay.
If you are unfamiliar with the Courtenay Bay Area of East Saint John, it is home to homes that were built shortly after WWI and WWII. This place is nestled in between a few major thoroughfares, is located on the best bus route in the city and is genrally a very safe area to live in for both young and old alike.
This area is five minutes by bus or car to Uptown or 25 minutes walking. It is surrounded by industry, sea water, fields and rolling hills.
Anyhow, I love this area… even when the fog rolls in and blankets out the sun and you can’t see across the street anymore.
All Original Illustrations are 50% Off in my art shop right now. Prices are already reduced in the originals section. Decorate your home with one-of-a-kind whimsical art today!
Please note that this sale has ended.
It’s a lonely road we all must walk after coming clean with ourselves then our family and friends. And truly no one else really understands because they are each walking their own paths too.
And the plan is to ignore the banter and move forwards and not be so hard on myself. I can’t count how many people have said that to me lately… people who know me well and people who know me not so well. I must be wearing my emotions on my sleeve.
Where exactly is one to put their emotions? And yes, the sleeve is a metaphor. I always try to use a kleenex when necessary but will resort to using my sleeve when I’m running away from the zombies! Haha!
Look, I started a sale in the shop. All originals are 50% off. I really need to clear these wonderful original artworks out of the studio and make room for new creations both physically and emotionally. The prices are already marked down.
Happy Springtime Everyone!
Distinguishing Fear from Excitement
They feel similar physically. Mentally however, one is threatening and the other invigorating.
I walked one day past a decade old park in the neighborhood staring at the WW1 canon perched ominously atop the hill. I continued onwards to the convenience store in search of smokes. On my way back I looked into the park seeing benches barely used and paths grown over with grass having rarely felt the touch of human feet. Fear hit me in the face. Excitement pounded in my chest. Oh Good God I said, walk into the fucking park. I walk fast to a bench. Sit. Do nothing. Not breathing… Dammit. Switch benches.
I jaunt to the central most bench, perch my bag up as a pillow and lay down telling myself not to leave this park until I feel safe. Safe from what? The zooming cars to one side or the giant scary ROSE bush beside me. Sitting up I take the packaging off my smokes and dig through my bag for a light. I put my pillow back in place, lay down, legs relaxing with feet firmly planted on either side of the bench. I puff. I inhale, exhaling smoke rings.
This bench is of hard concrete, aged over the past 10 years. It would sit two comfortably in any direction as it has no back, no arm rests nor corners. A bent oval like two hands facing each other joined at the wrist reaching in opposite directions flattened for sitting.
I put the cigarette out. I turn to my side. Seriously this fear has got to go away. I look at the cars declaring I hate them for being noisy. I flip to the other side now facing the hill of grass. I smell roses. The noise stopped. I rolled on my back and stared at the sky. I watched the clouds, lifted my legs up, bent them feet to bench and closed my eyes.
The moral of the story:
Always stop to to smell the scary roses.