28 October 2016 – As established readers know, & the rest of you are about to learn, I am shameless about puns. Even when they are dead-obvious groaners. Case in point: the title & content of this post.
The Tuesday Walking Society is out in force, all two of us, starting south on Roncy (Roncesvalles, when it is trying to be dignified) & planning eventually to turn east on Queen St. West and then … just keep going.
I stop almost immediately to gurgle endearments at this cat. The surrounding parking-lot signs just add to his raffish charm.
Stomp-stomp for a bit, and then Phyllis nudges me, chortling, “A huge pumpkin — on Garden Avenue!” I agree it is terrific, a true sign of fall, and on exactly the right street corner.
Upon inspecting it up close, we realize it is fake!
We decide to roll with the punch. Just a bit of Hallowe’en decoration, we agree, and look — everything else this greengrocer has on display is absolutely real.
First sidewalk sign of the day.
We admire the word — it doesn’t exist, but ought to — yet resist the temptation. Too early in the walk for treats.
Next up, more fall fakery, but come on, admit that you love it.
An old geezer watches me take the photo, squints at the bike, rocks on his heels for a moment, and rasps, “Now, that’s really pretty.”
Striding down Queen St. West by now. A coffee shop catches our attention, but not our patronage.
Still, if you happen to be addicted to both offerings … what bliss.
Bliss comes in many forms. Some have a hole in the centre.
I stop mid-stride for this doorway alcove.
Why am I so enchanted? I think I’m still imprinted by that walk on Sherbourne (previous post), where I saw bird (etc.) forms everywhere. Here, I see a moose. Phyllis is not convinced.
“Look,” I argue, waving my arms. “Left antler turquoise, right antler blue-striped, and he’s hugging Claret Guy With One Sad Eye.”
I’m still thinking about compassionate moose when I am again stopped mid-stride. By now we are in the heart of one of Toronto’s Little Tibets, and therefore awash in various meditative offerings …
I love it. Take that, Tibet-stereotype!!
Now a Mysterious Gap in this account of our walk. Next post will fill it in, I promise.
Meanwhile, hop-hop, and on to Queen West & Dufferin, and the railway underpass that when constructed in the late 1890s was known as the “Queen St. Subway.” We know the date & the original name — plus the name of the mayor and city engineer — because all this information is chiselled in stone to commemorate what must have been, at the time, an epic next step in technology, transportation, city expansion and Progress in general.
That’s not what I notice first, as we walk through the underpass. First I see that saucy 21st-c. mouse, only afterwards the stately civic pride of the 19th-c. stone signage below.
(You squint. You ask yourself if I intend this blur as an artistic effect. Don’t be silly. I was merely incompetent at taking the shot. But I do like the mouse, and his culture-contrast with the stonework below.)
Next, just a big old fun mural, complete with happy guy in cherry-red shades.
Until you read the tribute line above.
Notice one RIP, and you start noticing more of them. Too many.
More Queen West kilometres under our heels, & more signs. Like this admonition …
and then this riff (sort of) on an old Beatles song.
Who could argue?
Meanwhile, Back on Sherbourne Street …
I have such helpful readers! Back yourselves up to my previous post (The Show on Sherbourne) and revisit the mural at Sherbourne & Queen St. East. Where I originally confessed I couldn’t decipher the artist credits, you will now see the three names nicely filled in. That bit of editing is thanks to reader filo21, whose comment on the post supplied the missing information.
My second thank-you is to Rick H., who commented quite perceptively on my breezy but lazy “certified Whatever” tag for the west end of the Birdo Tenso mural. Rick sees it as “a close relative of the Hornbill-esque bird” at the mural’s east end, and I think he is absolutely right.