Canada geese on the lake side of Ashbridge’s Bay last week. © BCP 2010
When I walk along the boardwalk at Ashbridge’s Bay, or down one of the foot paths that follow the water’s edge, I sometimes forget that this little bit of land, which juts out into the lake like an arthritic finger, wasn’t always here. It’s a manmade peninsula constructed of so-called clean fill: mostly concrete mixed with rebar.
And there’s no getting around the fact that the recycled building materials are just plain ugly. Especially the rusted rebar.
If you have any doubts about this, the picture above should banish them. The other day I was walking along the path on the Lake Ontario side of the peninsula, when, peering between two pine trees, I noticed a gaggle of Canada geese (Branta canadensis) feeding by the shore. It was a restful, picturesque moment that I wanted to capture with my camera. On first glance, the scene looked almost pastoral. But when I framed up my picture, there, sticking up from the beach, was an angry-looking piece of rebar marring the view.
A spent dandelion head on the foot path last week. © BCP 2010
No sense getting worked up about it — without the concrete and the rebar, our little park wouldn’t exist. And neither would all the flora and fauna that make the park their home.
Speaking of the f and f, I came across this spent dandelion head on the same walk last week, and stopped to take its picture just because I liked the pinwheel shape it made.
Most of the time I — like most people — pass by common dandelions (Taraxacum officinale) because they are, well, so darn common. But when you stop to look at them closely, you see something special. Check out the dandelion’s complexity, its radial perfection.
Just an old weed to pass by without noticing? I think not.
© BCP 2010
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