High Park High
It’s not called High Park for nothing. Even just a few minutes of respite here is enough to elevate my mood. Heighten my senses. Ease my unease. I had no conscious intention to visit the park today, but as I was driving to work, past Bloor West Village, I had a sudden impulse to turn into the park. Resistance was futile. I am a High Park addict, after all.
It was early…7am perhaps? I was tired, and feeling extra lazy driving past the ambitious cyclists, runners and amblers. My favourite spots in the park are the cool damp wooded areas, and anywhere where there’s water. I had a different agenda today, though…and it involved caffeine.
I parked in the Grenadier Restaurant lot singing softly, there’s no business like joe business… A fleeting moment of gloom washed over me when I realized that it might still be closed. Looked kinda dark in there. I nudged the door and it gave way. Glee! No people… but coffee was abrew…attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell… I didn’t have to take any drastic measures like leap over the glass showcase of pies and rice puddings to serve myself…a figure transpired out of nowhere to take my order. Coffee.
Oh, and I picked up another lovely High Park card with a David Allen photo mounted on the front http://www.highparkphotos.ca. This one featured High Park poppies. And now, my beauties…something with poison in it…but attractive to the eye and soothing to the smell…poppies…poppies…poppies will put them to sleeeeep! In the middle of a Toronto heat wave, there was little chance of a sudden snow sprinkle to wake me up. Java the Good Witch, however, waved her magic stir stick to save the day.
I planted myself on a bench surrounded by wildflowers…coffee sipping and daydreaming and people watching and animal spotting and nature loving and coffee sipping. Did I mention I was coffee sipping?
I’ll have you all know I can quit anytime I want. Coffee, that is. High Park, never.