It is finally warm enough for indulging in my love of outdoor walking, a brief spring stroll. My ears are tuned for birdsong. I’ve seen several of a variety of finch, the ones that I saw often at my house. The head and breast have a blush of red; the first time I saw one I presumed it was injured. They hung out at my bird feeder in the early spring until the more aggressive birds chased them away.
I had several sightings of the downy woodpecker in the years I lived on 48th Avenue. I also witnessed a family of crows mourning one of their young that had perished in my rain barrel. Despite what I think of them, crows are extremely intelligent.
I’ve been listening for the familiar voice of the robins but haven’t seen any yet. Blue jays scold me on my way to my car some mornings. I heard a lone goose overhead; perhaps a scout.
After work, I drove home and dropped off all my trappings: purse, bags and books, changed my shoes and set off. I waited at the intersection of Highway 27 and 50th Avenue, almost swayed by the rush of traffic. When my turn came and I stepped cautiously into the crosswalk, I continued to watch both ways. There have been many near misses at that busy spot. Pedestrians compete with motorists for the turning lane signal.
Once I cleared that congestion I was away. It is fun to sightsee in our busy town. A block along I spied a puzzle piece in the gutter, wedged in with the last remnants of ice. A puzzle piece? Where did that come from?
In my many years working at the seniors’ lodge, I’ve picked up a multitude of pieces, swept to the carpet and forgotten. One of the ladies who frequented the table told of finding pieces in a sweater pocket, unfortunately after she had laundered it.
In our present facility we have several locations for puzzlers. Many have a table set up in their own living room and work in solitude. They crave their privacy. Some enjoy the larger, brighter open spaces and the occasional company of others.
I enjoy jigsaw puzzles as well. I used to have one on the go most of the time at the duplex. The island had suitable bright lighting and I could work for hours undisturbed or leave it alone. It wasn’t in my workspace. Since I have moved I have not opened a box although I did retain several of my favourites. In one of our activity rooms here in my condo building, large tables are set up with a regular rotation of partially completed pictures spread out. Several finished products are hung around the room.
I have long enjoyed working on puzzles. At the farmhouse we had one positioned on the upstairs landing and we worked on it in passing. I have found puzzle construction to be a stress reliever for me, an oasis of calm. I usually separate the edge pieces and then assemble the border first. I set aside groupings of all pieces of similar colour and those seeming to belong to a building or a person.
Sometimes I discover that what I considered obvious was in fact a blurred image of something else altogether. A piece that I had reserved as part of the sky belonged in the flower bed or a part that I was trying to insert in the chimney structure was a street lamp.
Life is often like that. The border of my life doesn’t always hold together or has something missing. Often the grander picture that I am aiming toward just isn’t making sense.
My view is often one-dimensional. Only when I learn to trust my heavenly Father, does the image become clearer.
- Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
