Do I love the ocean because blue is my favourite colour? Or is it the other way around?
Tomorrow we fly back to Toronto, there to become reacquainted with the concrete apartment towers, the grey skies, and probably, by now, the nasty little piles of assorted grime left behind by melted snow banks. In my neighbourhood, as in so many others these days, the grim finishing touches are added by a construction zone at the foot of the street, where another 40 storey tower grows out of the muck, all grey skeletal re-bar and concrete, surrounded by the muddy ruts left behind by enormous noisy dump trucks.
OK, sure, it’ll improve a fair bit before too long, when the leaves are back, and the Sun returns; but tomorrow it’s going to look like the tint control went wonky and the screen defaulted to black and white.
Ah well, there’s the prospect of Mahone Bay to keep us sane, and for now I’ll drink in one last look, the way you take a few deep breaths before you dive back below the surface, and maybe in the coming months I can look at the holiday snaps to get by, until finally I’m back in front of an ocean. The pictures don’t do it justice, but you know, they’re not half bad:
the needlefish 