You've done the annual Island Picnic, Pride is long gone, the CNE is finished. The Air Show is no longer assaulting Our ears. The litter of summer parades lay decaying in landfills. The tourists have gone North. The leaves turn first along the highways because there is less oxygen and light in the immediate air around them. Then in the streets and parks as the days grow shorter. For those of Us born in Toronto we hardly notice the buildings and skyscrapers. Residents are more in tune to the older buildings parks pathways ravines and greenbelts. Toronto has more greenspace than literally any other major city in the world. You can ride a bike through a park to and from almost any location in Toronto. That is if You know where the paths are hidden. High Park /The Beaches/Stan Wadlow/ Riverdale/ Humber River/Broadview Park/Cherry Street Beach/Leslie Spit/Sunnyside/Trinity/Budapest/Withrow/The Grange/Taylor Creek/Taylor Creek/ Rosedale Ravine/Center Island/Greenwood/Woodbine/Ashbridge's Bay/Scarborough Bluffs/Bellamy/Bluffers/Leaside/Sunnyside.... an endless list of Major Parks which cannot cover the number of ravines and smaller community parks on almost every street .Even in the most populous metropolis areas parks and greenways surround Us. To those of Us born here Toronto isn't a city a tall buildings its a city of wondrous shortcuts ally's and parks. Bridges and creeks train tracks and paths. You can ride a bike from Ajax to Hamilton passing through Scarborough/Toronto/ Etobicoke/Mississauga/Port Credit/Long Branch /Aldershot/Oakville/Burlington. Without losing sight of Lake Ontario. To Us born here Toronto isn't a hub of buildings its a web of intricate parks and paths Trees and streams. Each with its own memories of conversations. My Grandmother took me to High Park. My Father went to Center Island. I could play in some area parks like Moncur or Monarch Run around at the beaches at the bottom of Rhodes Ave. The filtration Plants at Neville Park and Coxwell. To born residents Toronto is a city of cool breezes and secret paths under the turning foliage. Its not the CN Tower its the Bloor Rosedale Bridge. Its not city hall, it's The Graffiti Alley with Banksy. Its that picnic with Your grandchildren under a bright rustic oak tree where You had the same meal with Your Grandmother and most likely are having the same conversation with Your Grandchildren. When your born here and have lived here You dont hear the streetcars you hear the wind. You don't see the construction crews You see the pageantry of cultures. Glen Manor/Beltline Trail/Severn Creek/Lauren Harris Park/Trillium Park./Todmorden/The Brickworks. And those are still only major parks. Toronto is a facade of business and structures that only serve to hide the Real City. The City of milkweeds and bullrushes. Wooden bridges and carpets of leaves. Streams... memories...smells and the absence of sound. Squirrels and racoons sparrows warblers hawks. And leaves will fall and sounds become crisp colors become brighter the air becomes sweeter. St Lawrence Market calls softly. And We enter this time of being when it is not too hot. When Our Fall coats are in hand all day and wrapped tightly at night. A time of memory and reflection. To me Halloween marks the new year and fall is my spring. As a Celt it is my duty to honor the Harvest and prepare for the Long Nights of Winter To respect the nature around Us and render the harvest to sustain Us. The days come down as the night will lengthen. The Garden has been rendered into the freezer and jarred in counted containers of robust flavor. I feel an energy that is ancient growing with the city's cooling. Now is that time of rest and restlessness.. We quicken the energy into a great and final barbaric yawp. I dont find myself in the metropolis I find myself in a network of wild wilderness. This City of movement breathes the transition from Summer to Winter with a celebration of color and sound as the Equinox brings Fall to the Autumnal City.
