Beechwood Gothic

So, late this morning, I was returning home from the drug store, rushing for the crosswalk signal which changed before I could reach it.  Stranded on the curb, there was no escape from the incessant drilling above my head, and it occurred to me that there were workmen on a scaffold removing the upper part of the brick wall that has stood forlornly for three and a half years following the six-alarm fire that took out our local hardware store, half a dozen other businesses and several apartments. Clearly, we're in for another three years of booms, thumps, and blocked sidewalks as yet another cluster of so-called luxury condos take shape in the glacial tradition of Ottawa construction.  The promotions are aimed, predictably, at youngish couples with no kids who will presumably be delighted to pay optimum prices for the location - and spend precious little time in their tiny, expensive abodes. There's a set of townhouses, which also took three years to build, on our street.  When we see the residents at all, they seem to be on their way elsewhere, usually clutching rolled-up yoga mats.

There's an edging below the brick and above the doorways of the abandoned shops.  It's very long and wraps around the corner, because the whole thing used to be the entrance to a bank which was still in operation when we moved to the city fourteen years ago.  In these days of online transactions and ATMs, banks are disappearing right and left, so this one did too, leaving these strange Gothic figures aimlessly waiting in line, including a mum in a tunic with her two baby monks.

It's a longish light, so I fumbled with my phone to capture the stretch of edging farthest away from the workmen, who seemed to be knocking out the bricks individually - for safety reasons, I guess, or dare I hope this stark queue of banking customers will be preserved to wait endlessly for something else?   None of them resemble in the slightest the people whom the condo developers want to attract.

Every, every minute?

Being tired (again), I quickly checked my folders for photos taken in Aprils past and remembered that I got this digital camera for my birthday four years ago. I was terrified, but realized that the only way to get over the terror was to get out and start snapping. So I spent half an hour or so wandering along the banks of the Rideau River. It being April in Hades, I mostly went for branches in themes of grey and beige. Like so:



However, for some reason, I felt compelled to snap the little shopping district in our neighbourhood as I made my way home that Sunday afternoon. I thought it was a boring shot when I looked at it later, even made a half-hearted attempt to delete it.

Now I look at this ordinary scene and feel a bit spooked. It's difficult to make out in this photo, but just next door to the barber shop (you can see the old-fashioned barber's pole), there was a hardware store (see where the wheelbarrow is?) that had been there for many years, and next door to that, a rather more recent organic food store, where I bought "eco-cleaners" and the Resident Fan Boy got all our meat. A few weeks ago, the managers at the hardware store decided to have a spring sale event and in preparation for that weekend, stocked up the store with barbecue equipment, including several bags of self-starting charcoal.

That afternoon, younger daughter and I were heading out to take in a movie and found the traffic snarled and re-routed around a three-alarm fire. We retreated home and watched Twitter while the fire was upgraded to a five-alarm, and finally a six-alarm. Word went out for the neighbourhood to seal doors and windows due to the toxic nature of the blaze. (Well, it was a hardware store --- you can imagine...) When it was over, many hours later, the hardware store and the organic food store were gone, along with several apartments above the shops. The barber shop, another long-time neighbourhood institution, was so badly damaged that it is unlikely to re-open. No one hurt or killed, thank goodness, although a seniors' home nearby had to be evacuated. However, eight people lost their home and possessions, and three businesses were destroyed, with the other shops on the block damaged and even today, still using generators for power.

Stumbling upon this snap four years later, I'm reminded of that line from Our Town when a young girl, newly dead, is about to travel back to be a witness to a day in her life. When she asks about a special day, the so-called "Stage Manager" advises against it: "Pick an ordinary day, it will seem important enough."