T.L. Morrisey

Showing posts with label Out walking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Out walking. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 7, 2023

Stopping at Montreal West train station

Sometimes I'll go for a walk and, mid-way, I'll be at the Montreal West train station (it's only for commuters now and run by the City of Montreal) and I'll stop and sit on a bench by the tracks for a few minutes. The sound of trains on the tracks, the smell of creosote, a train passing in the distance, these are things most Canadians used to be nostalgic about; it's not that the railways are in decline, they're busier than ever, they're making more money now than ever, it's just that urbanized Canadians don't have much to do with the railways now that travel by train has declined and fewer people work for our railways. Many members of my family worked for the Canadian Pacific Railway, it was a kind of tradition. 








Sunday, February 5, 2023

Somewhere on Mount Royal

It was the end of April 2011; I was walking on Mount Royal, the mountain at the center of Montreal and a very popular park. The spirit of trees is not only in the tree, it's in the shadow of the trees, it's in the roots and branches and the seasonal change of leaves, from green to fall's variety of colours to these bare branches and the carpet of leaves on the ground. 










Saturday, November 12, 2022

The hidden trail in November

There are never many people on the hidden trail, perhaps one or two dog walkers, sometimes no one is there but me. Usually I am alone. We're moving along to mid-November and December and the inevitable, unwanted, winter months that follow; one faces them with a certain dread. What will winter be like this year? The forecast for eastern Canada has changed from more snow and colder than ever to quite mild, but our "mild" is most people's cold, long, winter. And that is the problem with winter here in Montreal, it's just too long; a month of winter, as they have in Vancouver, would be enough for most of us, but our winter stretches on from January (the coldest month of the year) to February (a short month so that is our consolation) to March (sunlight lasts longer but it is still very cold) to April (when April showers can be a last snowfall) to May (getting better). Even Toronto has one month less of winter than we do and the rest of their winter is milder than ours. Victoria has no winter, just more rain. Even Burlington, Vermont, just south of us has a milder winter than we do. And our winter can begin in early December, not all of us want a white Christmas, I prefer a green Christmas and an unlikely green January . . . well, that never happens. The thing is to get outside and walk, and it doesn't matter where you walk as long as you get some exercise, even fresh air is optional, we need to walk because it releases positive hormones and gives us a sense of optimism. Personally, I like the hidden trail but, all in all, I like walking anywhere; I like seeing people and their homes, I like walking by stores and restaurants, I even like cars shooting passed me, I like life and people. The hidden trail isn't for everyday walking, for daily walking I prefer the streets and places that are not special to anyone but to me.

 










Tuesday, November 1, 2022

The season of October

Let's make October a season unto itself, that's how October felt this year; warm, blue sky, beginning with green leaves, then yellow leaves, and now the leaves have fallen. The transition from late summer to fall is impressive. There are even a few flowers left in the garden; so far, no frost.

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You know what poets need? They need to write a few poems that people like, that people refer to when they think of that poet's work. Poets don't need a lot of poems but they need at least one or two poems that speak to people, that speak to the inner being of people. If poets write and publish a lot of books and poems most of that output will be fairly meaningless, just more dross, if they don't have a few poems that are identified with them as poets. 

One of the worst things for a poet is to be obscure in their work. Mary Oliver isn't obscure in her work and some poets complain that her work lacks depth, but many others love her work and she is one of the most popular poets of the last thirty or more years. You can be obscure and some people will think you are clever and really smart, taking poetry to the next level, but it takes just one person to see that the obscurity in this person's work is meaningless, pretension, and then the whole house of cards will fall. A really good poet can be obscure and with time it will be explained or speculated on and it will be interesting to read about, it might even benefit that person's reputation as a poet; but minor poets, when they are obscure, it might be that they just aren't very good at writing poems, they didn't have anything to say. 

Here we are, walking on the hidden trail, just a few days ago. It's one of the most beautiful Octobers, it's the new season of October and it was a great day for a walk.