Fall Beauty - Full Duty
On this, the very day of our federal vote which will result in either a re-installation of the current government, or the triumphant entry of another, signs proliferate everywhere one looks. As though, one muses, they've suddenly taken it upon themselves in an ecstasy of hysteria to duplicate themselves inexplicably. Isn't everyone tired of looking at that signage? In the best of all possible worlds they'd be speedily yanked away, post-election.
We take turns going into the voting station, located within one of our area schools. Where usually we take an ambling walk over, sometimes through the ravine, we've driven this time, because we intend to go on afterward and drive into Ottawa proper. We take turns, because we're reluctant to leave our little dogs in the car unattended. But it's swift work to enter, relinquish our notification, render two pieces of identification, take the proffered ballot, mark it and return it to the ballot box.
Cannot tell by the sparse attendance we see at the station whether there will be a better-than-average turn-out; likely not. The urge to vote doesn't appear to motivate as many voters into exercising their franchise as it should. But we're done, and we leave the area to others. Glad it's over, wondering what the evening news will bring. It will be late in coming, since the polls are set to close a full hour and a half later than last election.
We turn onto the Eastern Parkway, and it's breathtaking, the sumptuous colours of trees, shrubs and fields. Although the oaks and the willows haven't yet begun to turn colour, maples, sumacs, beeches, birches and poplars have burst into crimsons, reds, blush pinks, yellows, orange, copper and pale greens. One arras after another ostentatiously greets us as we drive along the Parkway, taking in breath with each new revelation.
The great Ottawa River roils in the wind, coloured itself for the occasion, in steel gray, mirroring the dark clouds above, shifting through the sky, uncertain whether to rain again or break up to allow us the promised sunny intervals. Gulls ride proprietorially on the white-capped river currents. Then singly they rise into the air, shrieking their satisfaction with the day's presentation.
On their seasonal flight to more moderate-winter-welcomed climes, hosts of geese and ducks float complacently along the river, rise in flapping groups into the fields adjacent the river, to settle and contentedly look for seeds, grubs or perhaps also to take full advantage of this most generous of nature's weather days, pleasant for all her residents of this Mother Earth.
We take turns going into the voting station, located within one of our area schools. Where usually we take an ambling walk over, sometimes through the ravine, we've driven this time, because we intend to go on afterward and drive into Ottawa proper. We take turns, because we're reluctant to leave our little dogs in the car unattended. But it's swift work to enter, relinquish our notification, render two pieces of identification, take the proffered ballot, mark it and return it to the ballot box.
Cannot tell by the sparse attendance we see at the station whether there will be a better-than-average turn-out; likely not. The urge to vote doesn't appear to motivate as many voters into exercising their franchise as it should. But we're done, and we leave the area to others. Glad it's over, wondering what the evening news will bring. It will be late in coming, since the polls are set to close a full hour and a half later than last election.
We turn onto the Eastern Parkway, and it's breathtaking, the sumptuous colours of trees, shrubs and fields. Although the oaks and the willows haven't yet begun to turn colour, maples, sumacs, beeches, birches and poplars have burst into crimsons, reds, blush pinks, yellows, orange, copper and pale greens. One arras after another ostentatiously greets us as we drive along the Parkway, taking in breath with each new revelation.
The great Ottawa River roils in the wind, coloured itself for the occasion, in steel gray, mirroring the dark clouds above, shifting through the sky, uncertain whether to rain again or break up to allow us the promised sunny intervals. Gulls ride proprietorially on the white-capped river currents. Then singly they rise into the air, shrieking their satisfaction with the day's presentation.
On their seasonal flight to more moderate-winter-welcomed climes, hosts of geese and ducks float complacently along the river, rise in flapping groups into the fields adjacent the river, to settle and contentedly look for seeds, grubs or perhaps also to take full advantage of this most generous of nature's weather days, pleasant for all her residents of this Mother Earth.
Labels: Environment, Nature
posted by Pieface @ 6:06 PM
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