When my daughter Jennifer told me that she and her husband Richard were moving to Orangeville, I did a double take. Why would they want to move from our great city to a small unknown town? Over the last couple of years, I have found out.

It began for me with a childhood memory of Orangeville. When I was about 5, my family used to drive through the town on our way to a family cottage at Wasaga Beach. My dad would yell out “Bananaville!” Or maybe “Peachville!” My brother and I would giggle in the back seat and say, “No silly Dad, It’s Orangeville!” And so on…every time we visited. My husband Peter remembers that, as a young teen, he had a summer job as flagman at his older brother’s construction site – building sewers on Orangeville’s main street. It was not a glamorous job but he felt powerful holding up that little flag and stopping traffic. (And occasionally chatting up any cute female drivers).

Since Jen and Richard moved there, we have visited several times. We took some international guests there in 2013 for the 150th anniversary of the town. The main street, named Broadway, was shut down to cars so hundreds of pedestrians, kids, and dogs could wander on the road, visiting booths, eating street food, and celebrating. We enjoyed walking on Broadway, an attractive street with lots of heritage buildings, including a lovely old theatre built in 1875.

Another time we stopped by the Saturday Farmers’ Market. People were shopping and eating lunch, as they met with neighbours and chatted. Jennifer tells us that during a non-pandemic summer there are festivals almost every weekend: Ribfest, Blues and Jazz Festival, Taste Of Orangeville, and more. In the spring there is a maple syrup festival, with an “adult version” at night. That sounds intriguing, doesn’t it? We know that kids make toffee by pouring hot syrup on cold snow. But how does that translate into adult fun? Use your imagination!

Not too long ago, Orangeville gained new fame with an artistic project, initiated in 2002 by an enterprising mayor who decided to “breathe new life into dying trees.” He commissioned local carvers to create characters from dead tree trunks. The project began with 56 sculptures along Broadway and First Street, and in parks.

Recently on a Friday, when we had to leave the house so Lucy could clean, we decided to investigate. We headed to Orangeville and meandered along Broadway. We found some trees that had died, been cut off a few meters above ground, and carved, and other trees that had died completely and a portion of the trunk saved, carved, and mounted on concrete pads. The collection, refereed to as Tree Spirits, is clever and eye-catching.

On our way home, Peter and I laughed about our childhood memories of Orangeville, and speculated on the name. We had not seen a single orange tree in the entire group. Where had the name come from? A quick search of Google gave us the answer:

Orange Lawrence, an ambitious young man, had moved to the tiny hamlet in 1843 and bought a mill. He followed that with a general store, a school, and a post office, where he became post master. Feeling his power grow, he lusted after a life in politics and ran for office in 1861. Sadly, he lost. A few months later he hanged himself from one of those trees! Such a terrible irony, one not mentioned in the Tree Spirits pamphlet.

Orangeville has a great time with Christmas: a decorated park, a parade of lights, and…. Oops sorry – we are barely into spring! This is a topic for another day. Meanwhile, when Stay-At-Home orders are lifted, head up to Broadway and feel your spirits lifted too.

Sue

We’ve all been focused on Spring since late February. But now that April is here we can really begin to see it. There are signs everywhere.

Some days are warm enough to sit outside on the patio and watch the wildlife. Our first robins appeared n early March, tweeting away and digging for worms. The snowdrops have shown their sunny white faces. The squirrels are getting frisky. The kids are roller blading. And the adults…we can hardly contain our excitement.

Take my husband Peter, for example. He’s an avid gardener and started growing garlic from sprouts inside several weeks ago. In mid March he began looking for his electric drill so he could make holes in the frozen ground to plant the tiny garlic plants. Now he has turned our living room into a nursery and has planted seeds: zucchini, beets, squash, tomatoes, lettuce and spices. Very handy if we were having any dinner parties.

Another sign of Spring is when I check out my wardrobe and do a little shopping, The thought of exchanging all those dark winter clothes for something colourful just gets my shopping genes going. So what if I have to shop online? When those items arrive on the doorstep – it’s a big surprise! I open them and discover: “Oops this top is too tight. Guess the pandemic snacking got to me.” or “How did the red sweater on the screen turn into this purple-orange sweater in the package?”

But the biggest sign of Spring in our house is: Income Tax! Despite the pandemic and the possibility of postponing the April 30 deadline, Peter starts getting organized early. He checks out the tax program installed on his computer, and begins collecting the necessary documents. Every day around 1:00 pm he looks for the mailman. What important papers does the mailman have for us today? He opens the mailbox and out come – real estate flyers. Several phone calls later, he is assured that the necessary T 4’s will be arriving soon.

But this year a couple of my T 4’s are missing. Peter gets me to hunt them down. I call the appropriate government agency and discover that I forgot to change my address when we moved to the city. The missing documents were likely delivered to our old address. I call the CRA and listen to elevator music for over 2 hours. Then the agent tells me that the website was recently hacked and I need to answer some extra security questions: What was my previous address? Check. How about the address before that? “The place where I lived in 2005?” I wrack my brain and give her the details. Check.

Then the agent asks about the address before that. “You mean 1997? That’s almost 25 years ago! How am I supposed to remember that?” I come up with the street address but the unit number fails me. I blurt out: “It was on the 4th floor, so 4-something.” Silence from the agent. “It had a tiny balcony.” More silence. Now I am grasping at straws: “The walls were painted turquoise!” I begin to snivel. Finally the agent takes pity on me and says “Enough.” She will send the new T 4’s. I am saved.

Soon it’s time for Peter to start filling out the forms. This is where I retreat to the basement, the garage, or really any place where I can’t be a distraction. It’s nice to know that I have such power! I hide somewhere quietly and wait for a sign – Peter jumping up from his desk and announcing: “Let’s have lunch!” Tax time is over for another year.

Now we can truly enjoy Spring. I hope you can too.

Sue

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Several readers have asked for an update on our resident mice, Missy and Sissy. Honest – they really have! So here you go:

After over a month of co-habitation, we can say that Missy and Sissy are pretty good tenants: they look after their unit, tidying up their little tea-box bed every night. One night, when their bed was beginning to get stinky, I replaced it with a new similar box. They spent the next several hours searching out new bedding and bits of paper to fix it up.

They are fussy eaters, however, preferring our food to theirs. They love pear, tomato, and the sunflower seeds that Peter eats each night while watching TV. When they go to sleep, they cover up their food bowls to prevent prowlers from stealing their leftovers. Maybe they have heard about Peter’s grazing habits. During the day they sleep off their meals, sometimes snoring softly.

But at night? Well that’s a different story. These girls are night hawks! They are awake partying from 8:00 pm until early morning. They keep busy sashaying around the cage, swinging on their little hammock, walking their tight rope, pole-dancing on their ladder. But mostly they head for their mouse-powered ferris wheels. They climb inside and start running. The wheels squeak and wobble and make a huge racket. Fortunately our bedroom is at the other end of the house, or else we might have to downgrade their suite to the basement.

The new tenants are really keeping me busy. Every night around 8:00 I visit them and share the news. I locate their hidden food bowls and replace the contents with fresh goodies. On Sunday mornings I do the housecleaning – half the cage per week. With one hand I dump out the old bedding and pooh, while with the other hand is free to catch the tenants if they try to escape. Then, after I wash the wheels and other toys, I re-arrange things. Because Agnes might be calling at any time…

Agnes, the mice’s real mother, stays in touch from New Zealand. At least once a week she facetimes me to have a tour of the cage and see if I am doing my job properly. She checks their food bowls. “Nana, just give them one fruit at a time. You don’t want them getting diarrhea.” (No I don’t !). She often comments on how the mice need mental stimulation. “You have to move things around, Nana, add new toys, so they don’t get bored,” (just like the rest of us during the pandemic).

Anyway, my conscience got bothering me so, a few days ago, I drove to Walmart (double-masked at 7:00 am). I went straight to the pet aisle and there, on the shelves, were little mouse toys. Well I couldn’t help myself – I bought a cute little swing in bright colours that went perfectly with the cage decor. I could hardly wait till Sunday when I got to put it in the cage. Missy and Sissy were ecstatic! They climbed on instantly and began chewing. Oops – what if the paint were toxic?

I checked the box for hazards and found that the swing is perfect for chewing. And on the side of the box was a picture of another toy – a teeter totter “for your tiny special pet!” It was adorable. But another trip to Walmart? I decided that I would make a teeter totter myself. I gathered up the glue, scissors and appropriate cardboard. And you can see the results in the photo below.

Now I am thinking of signing up as a vendor on Etsy. If you need any mouse toys, I can give you a break on the price.

Sue

Back in March of 2020, I remember watching those impromptu concerts on balconies, as musicians played their pots and pans and other home-made instruments in tribute to the frontline workers. I was thinking – well good for them – the frontline workers deserve this. But how is the TSO going to fit on a balcony, especially with a piano, a drum set, and a few oboes up there too?

We now know that the TSO went virtual, and they are about to perform Vivaldi’s Four Seasons online beginning March 26. Other musicians, visual artists, dancers, and writers did likewise. They have learned how to perform on zoom. And we have learned how to participate: comb your hair, check your shirt for stains, put your wine in a coffee cup, and pull up a comfy chair.

The Art Gallery of Ontario now has an impressive line-up of activities and events online. There are courses for adults on painting, and even life drawing if you want to add some spice to your life. Talks by artists and historians include artist profiles, and other topics such as The History Of Nightclubbing in Toronto. You can view some of the AGO collection on their site, and you can do virtual shopping in their store.

The Mirvish Theatre had to suspend their season in March of 2020. There were a lot of disappointed patrons who didn’t get to use their tickets for the blockbuster hit Hamilton. Instead they had to be content with the covid-ized version of the show’s hit song “I’m not throwing away my shot!” The Mirvish staff did get creative and produced a weekly online newsletter titled “Meanwhile.” It had stories of past shows, interviews with actors who had nothing else to do, and little contests such as “What was your favourite theatre moment?” (if you can remember back that far).

Hot Docs, a film company that would normally be planning their annual May festival right now, went online with documentaries and talks. I signed up for a series on architecture, which was fascinating except…the presenter, clearly not used to zooming, had an annoying habit of taking off his glasses and putting them back on again, so often that I started counting. I got so fixated on those glasses that I lost track of the buildings he showed us. Not everything in our covid world is perfect.

Small arts companies have had to be more creative – it’s hard to put together a play or concert or art show with no audience and no money. A friend belongs to a church choir that meets virtually to rehearse. They learned the music long before they figured out the technicalities. A community arts group I know got creative with outdoor event planning, organizing an art show en plein air in the fall and a winter scene photography contest in the colder months. And the kids, even the kids found outdoor venues for their creative talents: on driveways and rocks.

So what does the future hold for all the artists and audiences who have been waiting an entire year for restrictions on live culture to be lifted?There is good news: the TSO is now planning their summer season of in-person concerts beginning in June. Stratford has announced a modified summer schedule, with plays to be performed in open-sided tents. And the highly acclaimed Van Gogh exhibit, which was staged last summer in the Toronto Star building, has announced plans to re-open their drive-through show in the next couple of weeks.

These are such hopeful plans. The arts are coming alive again in the city.

Sue

Now that we have been “doing covid” for over a year, we are pretty well-set in our routines.

Here are our daily activities: eat breakfast, read the paper, go for a walk, eat lunch, read a book, go for another walk, eat dinner, watch TV, go to bed. Next day, repeat. These daily activities are interspersed with occasional zoom calls, virtual bridge lessons, showers, laundry, putting out the garbage. There are other highlights: put on mask and go to the grocery store, put on mask and go to the drug store, put on mask and go to…hmmm where else can we go that’s not too scary?

In a previous post I laid out our lengthy nighttime routines: finding our pyjamas and socks, brushing our teeth, washing our faces, donning our “appliances,” and then, since we are now wide awake, reading a boring book to put us to sleep. But there is one more item that goes into all of this: taking our pills. Yes I do mean pillS. This is harder than it seems. One pill requires that we take it on an empty stomach, another one says to take it before bedtime, another one recommends taking it before a meal, and yet another one says “Do Not take this medication with any other medication!” It almost requires an algorithm to figure it all out.

Once we have our pill routine organized, another factor comes into play – our memory. How do we remember to take all these medications at the right times? One reader has an alarm set up on her phone. But if she forgets to charge the phone, then the pills are out of luck. Other people use a place as a reminder. Put them by your place at the table and see them when you sit down for meals. But if you are lucky enough to get takeout one day and eat it in the car, well so much for that pill. Or you can buy one of those little divided boxes and fill it up according to the hour. At the end of the day, when the boxes are still full, just dump the pills into your hand, say a little prayer, and swallow them all at once.

I am sorry to tell you that these nighttime and pill routines are not going away any time soon. In fact, they might get more complicated as we age. But the daily activities? Well we’re all hoping that they might change sometime soon! The covid variants are competing with the vaccine for dominance, and we are cheering loudly for the vaccine. There are 4 to choose from, but the best choice is to “take any one that is offered.”

The possibility of vaccines gives us something weighty to think about: how are our routines going to change when we have a chance at freedom? At our age it’s been hard to watch the days and weeks go by as we stick to our schedules, without much meaningful purpose. I’ve been asking people how they’re going to react to freedom, and here’s what I’ve heard:

Some people are desperate to sit in a restaurant and be waited on. This is mostly women. Women also mention shopping malls quite a lot. On the other hand, men want to watch sports with a live audience, such as cheering on the Blue Jays. Some even want to play a sport; on a tennis court or curling rink. Several people are contemplating a travel adventure, maybe somewhere in Canada first – carefully testing the waters in a safe place. Get home quickly if necessary.

But there are some routines that people have embraced during the pandemic: going for a daily walk on our beautiful city trails, making yummy loaves of bread on the weekend, reading novels that are more than 150 pages, buying fewer clothes and wearing them longer, getting in touch with family and friends more often.

These are pretty important life lessons learned during a pretty tough year. If you have any to add, send us a comment.

Sue

As we thumb through travel albums and fantasize about taking a trip one day soon, we shouldn’t neglect our local area; the Golden Horseshoe. Take Niagara On the Lake. Most readers know NOTL as the day trip of the century: crowds of people shopping, taking wine tours, staying at quaint B and B’s, and going to the Shaw Festival. But there is a lot more to this town than just tourism.

The Niagara area played a major role in Canada’s history. During the war of 1812, (a war between the USA that wanted to annex Upper Canada, and Britain that wanted to keep the territory as part of its massive empire), Niagara was the site of several battles. Situated on the Niagara river which was, even then, an informal border, the area saw bloodshed and the deaths of many Canadian soldiers at Fort George as they fought the Americans across the river at Fort Niagara.

Many of us have visited, or even climbed, the monument dedicated to General Brock who lost his life fighting an important battle. We’ve all eaten chocolates dedicated to Laura Secord, who apparently walked with her cows through American territory to warn the British of a planned attack. The Canadians/British finally won the war, but a battle in 1813 saw the US general burning NOTL to the ground as he retreated from his occupation of Fort George.

Following the war, the town was rebuilt and many of those heritage homes are still standing; homes such as the Hawley House, 1816, a neo-classical beauty. My parents knew the owners who purchased and renovated it in the 1950’s, finding a priceless set of sterling silverware hidden in the ceiling. St. Mark’s Church, originally built in 1792, was mostly destroyed during the fire, but was rebuilt and is the oldest continuously-used church west of Quebec. Next door stands the church rectory built in 1858, a brilliant example of an Italian Villa, L-shaped, with a tower in the middle and wonderful windows. Other heritage buildings stand proudly on the main street and along many side streets. Most have plaques which make for interesting and informative walking.

But I know a different Niagara On the Lake. As a child, I spent my summers there. It was a sleepy town back in the 1950’s and 60’s. My friends and I used to ride our bikes to the movies (now the Royal George Theatre), and afterwards we would wander down the main street to the Avondale Dairy for ice cream. When I was in university I worked at the Oban Inn as the dining room hostess and general gopher. The Shaw Festival was just beginning and I met all the actors, when they came in to the bar for a drink.

I got to know the owners quite well. Edna Burroughs steered the ship, checking on flower arrangements and menus with a magnifying glass. Her son Gary was the amiable sous-chef who eventually became mayor of NOTL. Her daughter was Jackie Burroughs, the (late) well-known actress. Jackie would drop in occasionally to chat, mostly when her mother wasn’t around. Edna did Not approve of Jackie’s interesting lifestyle or her boyfriends. I, however, was in awe. It was a coming-of-age time for me, just as the town was growing up too.

Not too long ago, during the pandemic, I had a chance to visit Niagara again. It was the same tourist destination. But it was missing one key element – people! The town was deserted. The theatre was closed. There were actually empty parking spots on the main street. The restaurants were only doing takeout and the owners were standing on the sidewalks begging for customers. It was a sad state for this historic town which has contributed so much to life in Canada as we know it today.

During covid our minds, in searching for things to ponder, often go backwards. We remember things that were more interesting than our lives today; going on trips, celebrating milestone occasions, and sometimes reliving our childhood. When I go backwards, I end up in Niagara On the Lake.

Sue

Yesterday I threw out my red turtleneck sweater, a warm but worn one that I’ve been slouching around in all winter. Spring is on the way. The birds think so too; just this morning I heard them tweeting at 6:00 am.

OK so maybe I am rushing the season just a tiny bit. Like everybody else, I am tired of this pandemic winter, especially since I’ve been wearing the same old clothes for months on end. Those jogging pants and sweatshirts are in rough shape. My boots are truly “down at the heels.” And my puffy winter coat is well – pathetic. There are stains from eating takeout in the car, and the pockets are filled with dirty gloves, old kleenex, and used masks. So last weekend I decided to march forward, towards my closet.

For inspiration I went to Zoomer magazine and an article entitled “No Sweat(s)!” The article was researched by someone who has an MA in fashion psychology. Who even knew there was such a degree? As we have already noticed, her first premise is that the fashion bar is set pretty low right now. The secret to dressing for success these days is just getting dressed! According to her, “denim is a solid step up from pyjamas.” Well so far so good, (except for those male readers who have already left the scene).

Of course this researcher is being paid by the fashion industry which recently declared that profits in their sector were down 93% over the past year. They have a reason to write these articles! But let’s just see what new trends she considers.

For her ideas she turned to the fashion trends following other world disasters. After the bubonic plague, Renaissance clothes of silk, satin and rich brocade became popular. After the 1918 Spanish flu, the roaring twenties ushered in flapper outfits. And after World War II, Christian Dior introduced the New Look for women: rounded shoulders, cinch waist, and long full skirt.

None of these styles look good on us older adults. So what will the next fashion era hold for us? Even though stores in most places are not yet open or have limits on customers, Toronto is considered a fashion hub; we need to be prepared for our chance to shop. As I read on, the author’s most important piece of advice is to head for colour. Nobody wants to see funereal shades of black and navy right now. Okey dokey, we can go with that. But the pictures in her article show women’s jackets that look Way too big and skirts that are Way too short. She mentions Diane Keaton as a role model, wearing “jeans, little hats, and trench coats; modern yet elegant.” hmm…

You men who are still reading are not left out either. For you there is Stanley Tucci, host of the new Italian travel/food show. He has a definite style. He chooses linen shirts in various hues of soft blue. He wears them with the neck open and the sleeves rolled up. His outfit is complete with denim jackets and jeans, very well put-together and sexy. Peter is not impressed. He says his 2 plaid flannel shirts are cozy and hardly worn at all!

The article ends with an earth-shattering quote: “Let’s rise to the occasion and perk ourselves up!” So find a picture of Diane Keaton or Stanley Tucci and just do it.

Sue

PS Peter refused to be photographed for this post. Sorry

So, do you want to know what Missy and Sissy, the resident mice, did yesterday? You don’t? Well then, I guess I’ll have to change the subject.

On Friday, the provincial government announced 2 more weeks of covid lockdown for the Toronto and Peel hotspots. We were all disappointed, but did we wail and swear and have temper tantrums? No we did not because… we are resilient!

Think back to the way life was about a year ago. From March to early June we did nothing but sit in front of our TV’s and watch the daily reports: Trudeau at 11:00, Ford at 1:30, and the Toronto gang around 3:00. In between, we did our compulsory walk around the block, followed by searching our bare cupboards for an old can of fish and some beans with which to create dinner. At bedtime we scoured our bookshelves for old tomes that we had been planning to read for several years but never had the time. It was a dull, repetitive life.

But look at us now! We easily check the covid numbers on our ipads, and move on. No need to watch the official reports unless there is breaking news. Instead, we turn to the season’s new shows on Netflix – all of which were filmed using a platform like zoom and/or social distancing. Or we watch sports which are exciting, even without live audiences.

When it’s time for our walk, we have discovered local trails. How often have you heard someone say: “We have learned So Much about our neighbourhood during the pandemic!” Or we put on our masks and join a friend in a local park to do tai chi or yoga or weight training, or even just walk together, but apart. When it snows, we get out our sleds or snowshoes, purchased online, and head for a deserted snowy hill.

For dinner, if we don’t feel like cooking, we have options. Takeout is available from most restaurants, and Greek, Indian, Thai, Japanese and many other world cuisines are available to us. And it is all safely organized for pick-up. Call the restaurant and order. Drive to a numbered spot in their parking lot, and call the restaurant again, giving your spot number. Very soon a masked waiter approaches your car with hot food, well-wrapped. Yum.

After dinner we can read something current. The library has pick-up options and the bookstores work the same way as restaurants, for online purchases. We can join a virtual book club and share our thoughts with other readers. If we don’t feel like reading, we can find other virtual activities such as bridge or choirs. Or how about wine or chocolate tasting? Sign up for a course and wait for delivery of your samples. Then go online to enjoy the treats and discuss their merits with friends.

All in all, we seem to be managing quite well. Our hair is getting longer and we miss hugging our grand kids, but otherwise we are mostly doing OK. The other day, as Peter and I were dragging our bags of produce home from Sunnyland, a couple of young women approached us from behind. Sensing that they were in a hurry, we schlepped ourselves and our bags over into a driveway so they could pass safely. They hurried by without a thank you or even a nod. I called out, with maybe a touch of sarcasm: “You’re welcome!” They turned around and looked at us, then walked back to where we were standing, and apologized. They said they had been engaged in conversation and didn’t even see us. Then they asked: “Can we help you with your groceries?”

Yes, I’d say we are mostly doing OK.

Sue

For several years now I have been trying to persuade Peter to get a dog. In the meantime I have been content with babysitting our grand dogs and playing with Minou, the neigbours’ cat. Until recently when a different option became available.

You may recall reading about our mouse adventure with our grand daughter Agnes during the summer. She found a sickly mouse and nursed it back to health, only to have it escape. She was devastated; eventually her parents gave in and the family grew from 3 to 5 when 2 store-bought mice, named Missy and Sissy, arrived.

Recently a family situation arose which made it necessary for Agnes and her parents to move to New Zealand for a year. But Missy and Sissy? Well they don’t have passports! What to do? All you grandparents out there know the answer already…

Agnes began our mouse training well ahead of time. She showed us their habitat and their tricks through facetime. “Look Nana, here’s where they sleep, and here’s their food bowls, but there’s no bathroom. Basically they just poo everywhere.” Sounds great, Agnes. Then she began sending us training videos. “Here’s what to do if one of them gets hurt.”

The mice arrived on Saturday. At Agnes’s suggestion, we installed them in their new home – the sun room. We watched them play as we tried to figure out their names. After all, what parents, even substitutes, can’t tell their kids apart? Agnes pointed out some distinguishing features and then we had a test. I guess we passed because we went on to learning about how to clean their cage. I’m not sure how Lucy will feel about her extra cleaning duties.

Then we were taught how to provide entertainment. For example, add a toilet paper roll for them to use as a tunnel. Or hang a kid’s mask along a wire and let them use it as a hammock. Or a toilet. Another trick: wrap up a sunflower seed in a bit of brown paper and hide it. Then watch as they search and unwrap – just like Christmas. These activities seems to be like mouse sudoku puzzles – brain food.

Next Agnes told us about their other kinds of food. They eat little pellets supplemented with special treats including meal worms (dead, fortunately). But no citrus or cheese. What, no cheese? We thought mice and cheese went together like dogs and bones! Agnes also said the mice like having a whole tomato in their food bowl. I stared at her in disbelief and went to get a tomato. She laughed. “Not That big, Nana, a Cherry tomato!!” I still have a lot to learn.

Things seemed to be going smoothly – until Sunday morning…

I was in the bathroom changing out of my pyjamas, when suddenly I heard loud wailing coming from the sun room. I threw on my clothes and rushed over – to see the neighbour’s cat Minou crouched in pounce position in front of the mouse cage, her eyes bulging, her fur standing on end, and Agnes holding on to her for dear life. I checked that the lid was on the cage and the mice were happily playing, unaware of the danger. It was not a crisis yet. But Agnes had looked into the future and it was grim. She continued to wail as I gently tossed Minou out the door.

It seems that our loyalties have shifted. For the first time in history, the mice have won out over the cat.

Sue

Since the pandemic started, Peter and I have found numerous green places to walk. We have worn out several pairs of shoes and boots trekking all over the GTA. As we begin to think about spring and new places to go, we are looking UP.

Our city is blessed with 3 great rivers: the Humber, the Don and the Rouge. All of them have tributaries, valleys and walking trails along their banks. We also have parks; big ones like High Park, long winding ones like Cedarvale, animal-inhabited ones like Riverdale. Many community parks have playgrounds and picnic tables. And there are little parkettes everywhere; on street corners and in between houses. There is no end of pleasant places to wander in our great city.

But did you know that Toronto is famous for another green initiative? Yes, this city was the first in North America to adopt a green roof bylaw. Passed in 2009, this bylaw states that any new building over 2000 square meters Must have a green roof. Right now Toronto is estimated to have about 700 green roofs. Of course most are closed right now, but spring is coming up, the pandemic numbers are going down, and we can plan our visits ahead.

Lots of public buildings are getting into the green roof act. Toronto City Hall has a large green roof. There are apparently unique views of the city from the top of the podium, along with terraces, gardens, walkways and seating. The downtown YMCA features a green roof with plants and bushes, and a running track for members. North Toronto Collegiate Institute has a green roof on their new (2012) building, designed to promote storm water management and reduce summer heat gain.

Some institutions have green roofs where food can be grown. Ryerson University runs a green roof urban farm, which is so successful that a second one is being built. The space on the roof of the Native Child and Family Services building focuses on native culture: growing perennials, medicines and the 3 sisters vegetables: corn, beans and squash. (There’s also a firepit for storytelling and a small healing lodge). And that grand old lady, the Royal York Hotel, had a green roof installed back in 2011, where vegetables and herbs are grown for use in the dining rooms.

Libraries have taken on the green roof challenge too. The Toronto Reference Library Board added 2 new green roof areas to the building during their 2014 revitalization project. The roofs worked so well at absorbing rain water and heat that other new library branches, Fort York in 2013, Scarboro and Albion in 2015, and the renovated Bloor-Gladstone branch, all had green roofs installed.

Several green roofs are situated on the top of condo buildings. The lawns and plants are often accompanied by BBQ’s and picnic tables so that residents have an easily accessible outdoor party space, away from the noise of the city. It got me thinking…

Now that we have a “new” house in the city, I am looking up there too. Last summer the grass in our back yard suffered badly. Brown patches appeared and Peter spent a lot of time considering how to manage the grubs that seemed to be eating the grass roots from underground. Is there a place on our roof for some new grass? A few plants? Maybe a couple of chairs? The roof is not flat so we’d have to have cleats on our shoes. And a ladder. Then we’d need some sort of lift to transport our drinks and snacks. Maybe a porta-pottie, with a little sink…

It’s amazing what you can think of when you are stuck inside during this pandemic winter.

Sue

PS No picture of our green roof…yet.