“ No matter what you write, you actually can’t help retelling a fairy tale somewhere along the way.” – Catheryanne M. Valente
There is still a scent of jasmine and mint in the air and I’ve just slipped into my writerly space at Veranda Café. After a local walk to drop off the recyclables at various stores and venues, it’s nice to find myself with a hot drink on the table, notebook in hand. Our city neighbourhood is also lucky to have other spaces harbouring second-hand books for sale and I’m often on the hunt for vintage volumes (some with passages underlined), new British design magazines (what a luxury for only 25 cents each) as well as recent bestsellers. Today is a good day, a 2018 soft cover is tucked into my tote, to be read when darkness falls.
The hunt informs our lives on almost every level – we wake up to natural light leaking into our rooms or by the shrill ringing of the alarm clock, hunting for that first bracing cup of coffee or soothing mug of tea. Depending on whether we’re off to work hunting for a timely bus or creating a list for the shops we have to visit, in between, we’ll be on the hunt for that one item or piece of music endowing us with the power to change our mood, if not our day – sometimes we hope it might even change our lives.
Today finds me on the hunt for the sun and I’ve walked through the green lushness of the park to sit underneath filtered light, a golden chai tea steaming on the outdoor table at the Urban Forest Café. My favourite trail awaits, I walked it not long ago but the weeks have been flying by and I’ve missed its shelter from the hustle and bustle of our West End summer.
The sky above the towering cedars is filled with the whisper of clouds huddled against the pretty blue we haven’t seen for days, although most people are thankful that the smoky skies of last year haven’t yet made an appearance. As my pen scratches away, tourists ebb and flow around me, on the hunt for hot food and tickets to ride the train through the cool forest. For the moment, hunger for the hunt has abated until a rather large raccoon travels by the café, a truer member of the hunt than I, bridging two worlds, reminding me for a moment of who I truly am, a sister of the wild.