Sunday, July 3, 2016

It seems inevitable; every July first on Canada Day when celebratory plans go forward and the time comes for nighttime fireworks, the skies open up. Not in a generous acceptance of the fireworks, but to produce their own. And this year was no exception; rather than the roar, bang and pop of fireworks coming from Parliament Hill and around various chosen places for group events throughout the capital, thunder roared in the skies above, lightning lit up the atmosphere and copious rain fell to help in the celebrations, moving people indoors from their outdoor perches.


Long before Canada became so populous as it is now, my parents, as teens, emigrated as refugees to Canada. My mother with her two older sisters from the Ukraine portion of the Pale of Settlement, Russia, and my father from a small shtetl near Warsaw, Poland. By the time I was nearing my own teen years my parents had managed to acquire a house of their own in the inner core of downtown Toronto, a much smaller city than it is now. Those inner-city houses with their brick exteriors and tiny front lawns were somewhat shabby and certainly far smaller than later-built houses, but they all had deep, covered porches.

When it rained, my father liked to sit out on the porch. And if was during a thunderstorm with its alarmingly loud claps and dagger-thrusts of lightning, all the better. He encouraged me to sit out there with him, to appreciate the grandeur of nature, not to fear it, but to respect it. Now, when it rains and there are robust thunderstorms rolling through the atmosphere my husband and I both feel thrilled by the spectacle. And there is no time, as far as we're concerned, when we're happiest for the gardens, freshly irrigated by nature.


It's at times like these that we appreciate the beauty of the garden the most. Not long afterward, whether that same afternoon or early the next morning, the sun will emerge in a clear blue sky and the gardens will thrive, so appreciably we can almost imagine we can see development as we keenly observe a contented garden.


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