There is a Doctor, an Elder in our community well into his 90s, and he’s been a very busy gent over the last few months.
My parents told me to go and check out the hill near our house, so I headed out, descending down the familiar slope. I was trying not to slip into prickly wild roses, and jagged mugwort stalks leftover from last season. While my Doc Martins and I struggled, this Doctor – carrying supplies, and expertly navigating the wild hills with his home-made walking sticks – turned the outskirts beyond a golf course into a miraculous little garden.
Do you see them?
The dogs took to the shade, imbibing the atmosphere of calm appreciation, and I joined them on one of the little makeshift benches built along the way!
It was a new place of wonder, overlooking the valley in which my family watched the city growing itself around them.
I weeded the furthest bed of some prickles and dandelions, gentle not to dislodge any of the budding tulips – my small offering of gratitude for the gift.
Then I looked down to see Luna’s grin.
“Did you roll in poop?!”
Yeah, she rolled in poop. Time to go.
On the way back up the hill, I noticed something else unbelievable: do you see those big tall green sticks in the foreground? Take a closer look…
Yup, asparagus. Nice.
My grandfather and I used to sit on this hill, eat cookies, watch the ants on the ground, and the cars on the Deerfoot. He knew it was a good place too.
Thank you, Doc. You’ve done a righteously lovely thing in our community, and I hope lots of other people have the pleasure of celebrating it with you.