spring is in the air
and continues to
mixed media on masonite board
layers of drawings
7 x 9 inches
in the shop
* * * * *
I don't know what it's like in the clean neighbourhoods, out in the suburban hinterland, but down in the unwashed heart of the city there is no hiding the changing of the seasons. On our morning walk to 'school' (daycare), Oona and I see it happen, in degrees, day by day, mostly in the form of garbage.
You see, suburban kids are made aware of changes in the season by big and obvious things, like different after-school sports, dirtier then clean again SUV's, fewer skiing weekends, and grandma starting to talk about the garden (Christ). But for downtown kids, who spend their lives trudging up and down the same treacherous sidewalks, the telltale signs are all about garbage.
Some recent examples, from our own neighbourhood:
- the garbage pile dumped at the corner of Cherry and Pine, degrading grotesquely with every thaw, and something to be avoided, just like the (crack) house it sits beside
- the giant flat-screen tv box across the street, flatter and saggier every day
- more light, filling in the sky, morning by morning
- an even higher incidence of hoodies, if that's possible
- the "BAD DOG--| |--BAD DOG" warning, written in chalk(?), about halfway up the east side of Cherry Street ... impossible even a (frozen, icy) week ago!
- the dog poop on the south side of York street, breaking apart and disintegrating a little more all the time ("Let's step over the poop today, Daddy!")
- the filthy mitten so gently (lovingly?) placed on the cinder-block wall beside the driveway close to the corner of Raglan and York ... wetter, dirtier ... is that spring I smell?
To be honest, I don't know how much I look forward to spring in our neighbourhood. Winter is a pretty effective dampener on the moronic unsavouries, the low-ballers and no-percenters. They tend to stay at home, indoors, where their shirtlessness can still be celebrated. Yo.