I won't hesitate to admit that I'm an unregenerated worrier. One of those people who at times, imagines dire events and then builds a case in one's mind for panic. From time to time my mind turns on a faucet of concern for which there is no real cause, but for which one can be readily manufactured on the whim of a concern. Today was one of those times. I called our daughter on her cellphone, our granddaughter on hers, and called their landline as well as sending an email.

 

 

Leaving no message of urgency, just as casual, 'give me a call'. The cell lines for both seemed really faint, and out of that came even more nagging imagination. I thought there was too long a gap between our last having spoken, to the present. I convinced myself I was experiencing this very strange conviction that something was wrong. To the point where I was almost ready to contact the OPP which services their area, to do a 'wellness check'. You never know...

 

I tried to set my concern aside. I'd mentioned it to Irving and he calmly opted for the explanation that they weren't home, could be out shopping. I couldn't convince myself, but thought I'd better get busy doing things. I found it hard to concentrate, my mind sliding back to possible, though hardly credible scenarios of disaster of some kind. But eventually as I got busy, calm resettled, and the automatic actions of familiarity in the kitchen took over. And I relaxed. 

 

Irving was doing the vacuuming with a new stick vacuum he had bought two days earlier, a really hefty piece of equipment that soon proved its value, showing me what he had gathered in the dirt collection cup. Where does it all come from?!! Just two adults, two little dogs, in a house that's kept as immaculate as possible, where does all this detritus, that grey fluff emanate from?

 

While I was rolling out pastry dough to form the cups of butter tarts, Jackie and Jillie began that shrill barking that informs us someone has the nerve to be at the front door; their response to the doorbell. Irving was a while at the front door, and then he appeared beyond the kitchen door, in the family room and two people, a man and a woman I didn't know, were with him. Looking around, looking in particular at the stained glass.

 

The woman was our elected municipal councillor for the newly-restructured area and she had decided to do a walk-about to introduce herself to the public she represents on city council. She and her companion were going door-to-door to introduce themselves. And on our porch they began by talking about the gardens, then switching to the windows. Their curiosity so enthused that Irving invited them in to show them around. 

 

A short while afterward we left the house with Jackie and Jillie for our afternoon trek through the ravine. A much cooler day than what we've been exposed to of late. The sun was mostly absent in the morning  hours and there was a light, cool breeze. It was, the morning newspaper explained, the hot and humid air of this week meeting a cooler front that had caused the tornado that ripped through the West end of the city, damaging about a hundred homes.

 

Our hike was pleasant enough to convince us to stay out a little longer than on the really hot days. And the sun came out now and again, illuminating a forest sufficiently irrigated to the point where its vegetation resembled summer's conclusion in the thick richness of its green glory and flowering wildflowers. 

Soon afterward our granddaughter called: 'What's up, Bubbie?'