Happy cows, arcing bats

Alex and I went swimming in a fifty metre pool for the first time, and though we were both tired, we were quite pleased with being able to do continuous laps in a medium speed lane. It was an outdoor pool, and the afternoon turned quite cool. I was uncomfortable for a few minutes, but the briskness of the day eventually went well with the exercise. There was a slight, wobbly struggle to the car, but we soon recovered.

We decided to refuel at the chicken place, and on the way out, we wondered what we should do. Going home immediately didn’t seem like such a great idea. We hadn’t been to Bronte Creek together in some time, so we decided on the park.

Bronte Creek on a weekday evening in late August is a pleasure to be in. There were virtually no other people there. We started at Spruce Lane farm, and walked to the end of the dirt road by the pond, and turned back. The light was beautiful and golden. I wished for my camera. “Sometimes it’s better to be without it,” Alex said. He was right. Enjoying the park and his company was better than worrying about pictures.

We went back to the farm, then started a long walk around the big empty fields, copses, and farmhouses. We looked up and guessed at the structure of the clouds high above, lit from below by the setting sun. It was gold and orange and blue. They were whispy and light and beautiful. “Are those cirrus? What are cirrus clouds, anyway,” I asked. We talked about the edge of the atmosphere and the clouds that were there, and the crisp late summer night. “Look!” There were pinstripe clouds, even and regular and picture-perfect, high above our heads. “Can you spot the mares’ tails,” I asked him. He couldn’t. “There, and there.”

“We’re so lucky to be here,” he said.

Looking up into the endless blue above us, and at the golden and orange light, I couldn’t have agreed more. Then I thought how wonderful all of this was, how beautiful the admiration of it, without having to infuse this natural wonderfulness with gods.

As we walked, I imagined how a believer might be compelled to talk about the creative genius of God, and how all this beauty relates to his little life, all the while exactly missing the breathtaking example of loveliness all around him. The universe is so breathtakingly beautiful and light, that being encumbered by gods diminishes the experience of it for people, erodes its tangibility, like a river eroding the limestone banks surrounding it. It’s a sorrowful thing to remember the lens of fantasy that most people are forced to view the world through.

We passed another farm. There were three cows in a field on their way back to the barn on their own. One was quite young, and kicked at the air with its back legs, scampered around the two adults, nuzzled their faces. It was a sweet sight.

I suddenly realized this was the same calf, now much bigger, that I had seen six or eight months earlier, alone in the barn nearby in the cold of winter. I’d been at the park taking pictures by myself, and went to this barn to find some goats. A lonely calf was the only animal there. It was lying in a dark corner, and I didn’t see it until it stood up slowly, and made its way toward me. I pet it a bit, feeling sorry for it, and fed it some hay. It was obviously very lonely (and probably cold).

But here it was on a beautiful late summer night, full of life. It was a lucky sight, for me.

Eventually we found ourselves at the huge abandoned parking lot, choked with weeds, that leads to Spruce Lane farm. There were bats flitting everywhere overhead. “Watch what they do,” I said to Alex, and tossed a rock at one. It immediately swooped toward it, circled it quickly as it arced to the ground, then sped off when it realized it wouldn’t be very tasty.

We got to the car in almost total darkness. The sky where the sun had almost completely set was dark blue and red. The whispy clouds streaked from horizon to horizon. Jupiter stood out like a shining rock toward the south.

I opened the window as we drove slowly on the tiny road that led toward the park exit, letting in the evening air. It had been a perfect day, a beautiful evening. It would be a gorgeous night.

We are so, so lucky to be here.