The Holy Grail
Righto spring, I’m ready for you!
Rice Lake, Alderville, ON
For some reason, this second winter of the pandemic was extremely hard on me. My sense of isolation grew as did my impatience with my lot in life. The advent of spring (read: outdoor freedom) became my zenith. My Holy Grail.
In 1975 when "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" was released, my friends and I flocked to the Hollywood Theatre on Yonge Street to see it - four times that summer. By the time we returned to Uni in the fall, we could pretty much recite the entire dialogue. There were too many memorable scenes to list but one of the funniest was King Arthur (Graham Chapman) “riding his horse” and his trusty servant, Patsy (played to perfection by the divine Terry Gilliam) following behind, banging coconuts together to simulate the sound of horses hooves. We all thought it was utterly hilarious (indeed, some of us still do). That year I was invited to pledge for Theta Kappa Sigma, UofT sorority, and I accepted. Whilst “rushing”, two of us were given the pledge assignment of re-enacting that scene - at Yonge and Bloor (one of Toronto’s main intersections). At Yonge and Bloor during evening rush hour. Sadly, very few people even appeared to notice us but we did earn several giggles and kudos from the folks who’d also seen and enjoyed the flick. If you’re in need of a chuckle and would like to watch the coconut scene: Monty Python and the Holy Grail
An "ultimate" goal ought to be the loftiest objective one hopes to attain; peace in one’s heart and mind, happiness, contentment, marriage harmony, civic and social responsibility, empathy, kindness…. Nope! I regret to confess that for me, it was a return to my spring/summer/autumn routines, outdoor life, rural rambles, park time, wildlife, wildflowers - freedom.
Every year in Ontario, ‘round about the Ides, we have these flashes of faux-spring where in the middle of March, the temperatures creep up high above freezing and the world feels fresh and shiny-new for a couple days before the inevitable cold snap or snowfall or cold snap with snowfall arrive to temporarily douse our optimism. So it has been this year.
Yesterday I had my first taste of vernal freedom. I’d forgotten how good it feels. It was not the sunny, warm day I’d longed for but it was dry, it was 6℃ and I was happy just to be out on my own again, exploring at my trademark slow pace, stopping wherever and whenever the urge struck and getting wet and muddy in the process (with no one to cast disapproving eyes over me). Corny though it may seem, for the first time in four months I felt fully alive, fully engaged with the panorama, beauty and mystery of nature. And oh, how I've missed that feeling.
My first solo outing was a corker! I travelled north, then east, then south, then west in a gigantic circle encompassing at least three quarters of the county. No moderation in me! But first, a surprise - Crossen Road (where I typically begin and end my jaunts) is closed - a huge section of the road has washed out leaving a crater four feet deep. Gosh, I hope the county fixes that soon!
Next up, the Buffalo farm, looking for spring babies. Sadly, only one, it was napping, and it was too far away for a decent shot. They’re a fascinating breed - so huge, so fierce looking yet so very gentle.
Next stop Richardson Marsh and Percy Creek. Last summer I took the above picture of a beaver. He spent his entire summer building the most solid-looking lodge, only to have it destroyed by human hands (I found it dragged up onto the creek bank). Yesterday, though, I was so happy to see that he has rebuilt, further north where, hopefully it will come to no harm. It’s neither as big nor elaborate as last year’s structure (not yet, anyway) but it’s a splendid start, don’t you think?
Then, on the opposite (south side) of the bridge:
Duck, duck, goose, anyone?
Last stop was in Meyersburg (just south of Campbellford) and the mighty Trent River. It is quite deep and very fast-moving at this time of year so I didn’t wade into its midst. Nor was there any wildlife to be seen. Still, listening to its roaring and splashing sounds was soothing and enjoyable.
And so began my pastoral perlustrations of 2022.
“Beginnings are fragile things.
They're made of gossamer threads of hope,
and shimmer with the faint light of potential grace.”*
The Holy Grail is, depending upon the historian you trust, a treasure that is real or mythical. It is undoubtedly the most important symbol of the Arthurian legend. Various historians have described the grail as a chalice, vessel or dish with religious, supernatural or miraculous powers. Yesterday at the end of my Rural Ramble, and after a very long four months at home, I found it at last, here in the heart of beautiful Northumberland County! The Holy Grail:
Yesterday did shimmer with the faint light of potential grace and so, so much hope.
’Til next time, y’all…
*Dana Hutton from her book The Art of Becoming.