Five Ways to Disappear

Hamilton Love Letter

2011-06-13T18:34:00.000-07:00

Some pictures from Ontario's best kept secret - Hamilton, aka "The Hammer."

Toronto's Union Station is a grand station, but if you love Art Deco, Hamilton's Hunter Street Station is a must see. It dates back to the golden age of passenger train travel and was once the hub of TH&B action (the now defunct Toronto, Hamilton & Buffalo train company).
The station was lovingly restored a few years back and is now a GO station.

It's like stepping back in time.

I snuck upstairs to the roped off area to take some snaps from above.

I believe this is the old Hamilton TB sanitorium, but if you're from Hamilton and know that it was used for another purpose, please write me a comment. It's an old building on Sanitorium Road, so I'm inferring. This building sits quietly atop the mountain in an area that's eerily like a ghost town, yet beautiful. The hospital dates back to 1906 and was used to treat people with TB. My mother remembers it as a place that helped people recover from this dreadful disease. No doubt, many people died here.

Back view.

In the area surrounding the sanitorium is a beautiful swampy park that looks Southern Gothic. It's called the Graduation Gardens. I wonder if there was a nearby school or college that used this for graduation ceremonies.

Train yards and interior view from a decaying shed at Hamilton Harbour. Hamilton's a beautiful city with a rich city. I wish people could see past the factories when you drive past it on the QEW.

Blurred Horizon

2011-02-21T16:15:00.001-08:00

Kingston Road & the Scarborough Bluffs: Feb. 21, 2011

Soundtrack by The Church

St. Theresa Parish Shrine of the Little Flower

Bird cocktail party

Snubbed

No fishing near houseboats.

Fire escape at Scarboro (sic) Missions

Stoney shrine at Scarboro Missions

Snow Bound

2011-02-05T18:10:00.001-08:00

A snow day that shouldn't have been...

but we took it anyway.

Digging out

Searching for light.

Building a fort

Warming up and redesigning

First time on skates

Bruised but laughing

Frozen boats

Home

Reminders about the beauty of a northern winter and creative time indoors.

Thorold, ON - Two Days After Christmas

2010-12-28T20:38:00.001-08:00

Soundtrack - vintage Suzanne Vega

Patterns on Ice

2010-12-28T20:21:00.001-08:00

Heading into St. Catharines - Christmas Day, 2010

St. Johns Norway Cemetery

2010-11-21T17:27:00.000-08:00

My sister's family lives a stone's throw from this pretty cemetery. In all the years she's lived in the neighbourhood, I'd never gone in. The cemetery dates back to 1853. Not surprisingly, there are many old tombstones there. It was bitterly cold today and I wasn't dressed for the weather. With numb fingers, I took several pictures and vowed to return another day. Click on the music link below and enjoy the scenes.

Erin

This is the closest I've come to seeing a fragment of a dream. I have a recurring dream where I'm lost in a hilly cemetery as a child. I heard a radio program recently in which a man confessed to seeing the woman he is meant to be with in a dream. He has a picture of what she looks like in his mind and now is searching for her. Strange.

Cemeteries are a place where little mysteries unfold before your eyes. The clock has no place here. Everything slows to a halt and you're just left marveling at the beauty and wondering about the people buried beneath the ground.

Looking up at the chapel on the hill.

When I was a child, a boy at my church was fatally struck by a car. I couldn't think of anything worse than for parents to lose a child. His death was very strange and upsetting for me. Every experience seems amplified when you're a child.

Gone to earth.

There are many broken gravestones at this cemetery. I'm not sure if they've been toppled by vandals or just victims of time and weather. This one caught my eye. I noticed a miniature stone leaning against it.
It's hard to make out what it says. It must have meaning for someone.

The tree above is in memory of the people written about on the plaques below. They sound like fascinating people.

Over ground.

Path to the chapel.

All major credit cards accepted.

Someone with a sense of humour.

One of the more interesting tombstones I've seen.

Lest we forget.

Night Walk at Greenwood

2010-11-15T20:06:00.000-08:00

Rain on the Mill

2010-10-19T19:20:00.001-07:00

Morningstar historic grist mill, saw mill, blacksmith shop, and museum - St. Catharines, ON.

This is a serene and beautiful space that sits beside the Bruce Trail. Hardly anyone is ever there when I go. Go and soak up the musk of history. For more information go to http://www.morningstarmill.ca/index.htm

The Beaverdams Church 1832 - St. Catharines

2010-10-17T21:38:00.000-07:00

Photos taken Oct. 11th, 2010

Nuit Blanche

2010-10-16T17:30:00.000-07:00

Nuit Blanche is an all-night arty party held each October. It started up around the time our son was born. Five years later, I was finally able to get out with my camera. It's a great idea and I saw some interesting art/performances, but there were so many drunken yahoos out there, that I packed up early and came home. Fascinating art is in the eye of the beholder.

Insect-fetish woman in the window of Northbound Leather.

Kent Monkman in drag performing a native drumming ritual.

Smiling people projected on the front of Holt Renfrew - a store I'm proud to say I've never set foot in, nor shall I ever - even if I ever have serious money. Not that that's going to happen.
I got involved in a parachute party right at the intersection of Yonge and Bloor - one of the busiest intersections downtown. Traffic was blocked off for the night.

Exotic dancer projected on a large screen at Nathan Phillip's Square. This was part of Daniel Lanois' concert/performance Later That Night at the Drive-in. The music was great and Nathan Phillip's Square looked amazing.

Mirror ceiling above Lanois' band.

Hey, look - a clip posted on YouTube. I don't know how the salsa dancer didn't freeze. I guess if you shake your bon-bon fast enough, you stay warm.

Notre Dame de Lourdes - Ottawa

2010-10-15T19:52:00.001-07:00

This past summer I attended a wedding in Ottawa. In the morning, my son and I got on a city bus and disappeared into a residential area. It was here that we stumbled upon the grotto of Notre Dame de Lourdes. The place was filled with Catholic shrines of saints and had a mysterious atmosphere. It was surrounded by mature trees and very peaceful.

Abandoned Church in Elora

2010-08-21T07:23:00.001-07:00

This week we went up to Fergus and Elora, where I discovered this beautiful, abandoned church. If anyone knows anything about the history of this building, please leave a comment.

"Haunted" House

2010-08-10T18:40:00.001-07:00

Every neighbourhood has a house that the kids think is haunted. This house on Frater Ave. in East York definitely fits the bill, though I suspect it's lived in and just needing a face lift.

Spooky at dusk.

Apparently Not Abandoned

2010-08-03T17:44:00.001-07:00

East York Shoe Repair (at Sammon & Donlands) always appears to be abandoned. It seems permanently closed for business and I've taken pictures of it during the daytime with no sign of people coming or going. What is the appeal? This store has a charm about it. I like that the name is painted on the windows. Very old fashioned.

Thinking that nobody would be living on the premises, I thought I'd take a few snaps last night. All of a sudden a light came on inside, leading me to high-tail it on my bike. Sorry. It wasn't my intention to set off any alarm bells. I'd be a little freaked out if I was sitting in my living room and someone started taking pictures of our house using flash.

Peace and goodwill...

The Guild Sad & Pretty

2010-08-03T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Guild overlooks the Scarborough Bluffs on Guildwood Parkway. My family used to live on this street and I spent many dreamy afternoons as a teenager, wandering the grounds. Now the property awaits development. Most, if not all of the buildings are rotting away in disrepair and are not in use. Each time I return to the Guild, I see more damage and rot. More photos of the Guild can be seen on earlier posts on this blog. This is the second time I've gone out there to take pictures and the battery in my camera lost power. Hmmm.

I'm always drawn to the wooden vikings on the studio cabin near the front.
The round handle has come off the owl. This must have happened recently. I love all the thoughtful details put into the facade of the cabin.

Side view: What I'd give to go inside.

Stone chimney

I was never sure what this is. A hitching post?

I always look for this crumbling bench. It's along the laneway at the far right side when you come in. You have to look for it.
Back of the building we always called the "conference building." The space is used to hold more bits and pieces not on display.

Amateur historian's tools.

The air was thick and fresh. Lot's of mosquitos.

Front of conference building. This is one of the few buildings that looks like it may still be functional.

Picture of ship hangs in lobby of conference building.

Night Shots of Abandoned House

2010-08-02T08:38:00.000-07:00

I went back to the abandoned house after midnight. I must admit, it's a little scary doing this. I thought I'd be able to take a peek inside the house, but I was aware of trespassing (last time I checked, it was a no-no), and I was also worried that a neighbour may see me skulking around with my camera and call the police. I wonder how those ghost hunters are actually able to spend a few hours inside a spooky old building without any light.

Merc after midnight. I'm slightly limited by my Pentax digital camera, but I do like the tabloidy washed out effect of the flash.

House lit by flash.

Without flash, a reddish hue is the result of the yellow street lights.

Abandoned House With Crabapples

2010-08-01T18:01:00.000-07:00

Up the road from my house, you'll find an abandoned house with a creepy Mercedes Benz parked on bricks at the back. A gnarly crabapple tree droops at the side and a stately pear tree grows in the back yard. Nobody will enjoy those pears. I've always wanted to take some pictures. This evening, I had my chance. Do I dare go back after dark?

The jalopy Merc reminds me a bit of the jalopy Jag that Paul McGann drives in Withnail and I.

I love that movie. Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to the image of this old Merc.
A neighbour with a bottle of beer in his hand came out and I asked him about the house. He said nobody has lived in it for years, but there is an owner and the house is awaiting some sort of zoning for further development. Whatever they build on this site could never have the same oddball mystique as the current house and car.
Backdoor with garbage cans and recycling box. Almost makes the place seem like someone currently lives there.
Underneath the front of the house is completely exposed and junk and repulsive smelling garbage bags fill the space. I can't help but think of the scene in L.A. Confidential when Russell Crowe goes to the old lady's house to talk about her daughter. He smells something horrid and goes underneath the house at the back, to discover the decaying corpse of his ex-police officer Leland "Buzz" Meeks.
The house facing Holborne Avenue. Was this once a fine looking house? I'll admit, I had a peek through the windows. I saw a pile of old windows and a walker in the front room. This makes me think an elderly man or woman either died, or left for a nursing home. Why would they leave behind a walker?

Broken headlight

I'd be scared to open the garage door in case a pack of rabid raccoons charge me.
Garbage in front of garage. Who's dumping garbage here?

Stay tuned for more...

The Haunted Cheese Factory

2010-07-23T08:50:00.001-07:00

Hello there,

Here are some photos from our day trip last Saturday as we tootled along the small highways and country roads of Northumberland. Codrington is a tiny little town on Highway 30 and Campbellford is a larger town also on 30. Growing up, my family had cottages in both towns at different times.

Enjoy,

Erin

Driving in towards Campbellford (I'm not sure what this town/hamlet is called), I was always fascinated by this old cheese factory. It's now standing, but in need of repair. It looks like a haunted house, but there are lace curtains on some windows and there are two mailboxes outside it, so there's actually a chance that someone lives in it now.
Remnant of the old Cheese Factory sign. I wanted to get closer for a photo, but I didn't want to trespass too much, plus it was starting to rain and an angry dog was barking across the highway. Why do country dogs always seem to come out of nowhere and scare you?

This is an old church on the outskirts (going the opposite direction - east) of Campbellford. It is now the home to the Stone Church brewery. The side of the building is their outlet. You can actually buy beer there, which they'll bottle on the spot. They also sell Stone Church souvenirs. The main part of the church is where you'll find the large copper brewing tanks.

To the east of Stone Church, you'll find this austere looking mason hall.
It sits at a three way intersection called, Pethericks Corners. I thought it was interesting that they had a marker sign installed when it's such a remote intersection.
Stone Church has a sparse cemetary. I didn't crawl over the fence to get photos. Maybe another time.
Across from Stone Church, you'll find an abandoned building in an overgrown field.

Beauty surrounds and the air smells lush and heavy with a sweet grass scent.
Across from Stone Church is a cemetery that has some very old tombstones. It is still being used and there were tombstones with dates of the recently deceased.

Stone Church was originally called Zion Church. As you can see, it's quite old for the area.
Stone Church Brewery keeps flexible hours as you see.

This was our first cottage. It's an old schoolhouse my parents bought in the early seventies for a few thousand dollars. They did all the work and created rooms out of the open space. I remember the wood-burning stove in the middle of it. We loved going up to Codrington on the weekend. We were a city family and having the opportunity to run around in the big field that was our backyard, really made me appreciate nature. Later, my parents sold the schoolhouse and we bought an old wooden two story house in Campbellford, which was sadly destroyed by fire in the early eighties.
Beside the schoolhouse is the Orange Hall. That's what everyone called it. I'm surprised it's still standing. I think the current owners of the schoolhouse use it for storage space. I'm not sure if it was called the Orange Hall because of its colour, or possibly because Protestants met there. The schoolhouse was Protestant and another schoolhouse for Catholic students was down the road.

Sinking roof

Owen Sound, Wiarton, Southhampton

2010-07-18T07:04:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, we tootled around Owen Sound and the lower Bruce Peninsula. Just imagine incredibly fresh smelling air and trees everywhere you look. Enjoy - Erin

Top of Inglis Falls - Owen Sound

Green toad at Inglis Falls

Lily pads and reflections of trees at Inglis Falls

The falls

Ancient rock being hugged by a tree

I'd love to have a cabin overlooking this breath-taking scenery.

The falls from another angle. Strangly, this area wasn't overrun with tourists. You can still feel like you're alone in nature.

The woods at Inglis Falls

Above and below: the shores of Southhampton on Lake Huron.

Beach vegetation

To the lighthouse. Southhampton shores once again.

Back at the outskirts of Owen Sound, we discovered what appeared to be an abandoned structure that looked like the set of a Western. If my husband and son hadn't been waiting for me in a parked car, I would have walked across the grassy field to get a closer look.

Haunted, no doubt.

Driving alone the shores of Colpoys Bay (part of Georgian Bay) on our way to Wiarton.

Skinner Bluff marker sign. A terrible shipping accident happened here once.
Wiarton, is the home of Ontario's beloved groundhog mascot, Wiarton Willie.
All I'd ever heard about was the groundhog. I had no idea Wiarton was so beachy and wonderful. The nice thing is that it's a quaint town with rocky beaches, therefore, no horrible tourists and gangs of twentysomethings blaring loud music. You can still find peace and quiet here.
Across the harbour at Wiarton. The image below is straight out of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, including the gas station.

Above and below: Willie's cage. It was hot when we were there. Willie was sensibly trying to keep cool, so we didn't get a look. The cage is outside the local library.

Hurrah for Willie!

Windmill farms outside Dundalk, ON on our way back to the Big Smoke (aka Toronto).

Welland Ghost Canal

2010-07-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

Toronto Shadow and Light

2010-06-27T06:45:00.000-07:00

The media attention this weekend was on G20 protests in downtown Toronto. Yes, the protests turned ugly and depressing, but David Miller was right - this wasn't the picture in the whole city. I went for a bike ride last night to Woodbine Park which is near Lakeshore Blvd. between Coxwell and Woodbine. There, I saw fish, a turtle, a groundhog, many species of birds and - a beaver! I had no idea beavers were living in this man-made pond. You'll find the picture below.

Redwing blackbirds are everywhere. One must have been protecting its nest, because it swooped down and hit the back of my head. I kid you not. That was a first for me.
Here's the man-made pond. The city has done a great job of naturalizing it with native plants. The pond looks like it's always been there.

Snails are everywhere - especially after the rain. I did my best not to crunch them with my bike.

Mallard ducks.

If you look closely, you'll see a little fish. Is this a minnow?

Joe Pye Weed grows in abundance.

So wonderful seeing birds perching on grasses.

Thistle.

If you look closely, you'll see the beaver's head sticking up. I had to be very careful not to scare it away before getting a couple of pictures.

I've never seen a beaver in Toronto outside the Toronto Zoo.

It didn't stick around very long.

Boats in a misty harbour.

Lunchtime Quickie at Fiesta Filipino

2010-03-27T21:00:00.000-07:00

Jesselyn and I rounded up some adventurous teachers who said "yes" to yummy Philippine cuisine for lunch. Fiesta Filipino is literally a stone's throw from our school. Jesselyn's family comes from the Philippines, so she knew all of the food.
Some of the house specials pictured on the front window.

Steaming zesty food greets hungry, crazed teachers. The food was lovingly prepared and had a "home cooked" feeling about it. I highly recommend this place. Lunch cost no more than $10.00 and we each got a bottle of water. Nobody left hungry.

The ever-present Philippine Jeepney sits on display on the front counter.
Mountain of cash 'n carry pastries. All of the food was cheap and cheerful.

Jesselyn's plate of goodness.

I went for just about everything: spicy pork, taro, rice, and spicy goat. Mmmm. They had to roll me back to the school. I just wanted to curl up and take a nap, but I soldiered on and taught. Fiesta Filipino is on Victoria Park Avenue, just south of Eglinton.

Tie Me Kangaroo Burger Down - Sport

2010-03-22T18:59:00.001-07:00

It looks like any old vac packed burger...

But these are Kangaroo Burgers. We bought them at the St. Lawrence Market on the weekend. They were expensive as burgers go, but pretty tasty. Duncan took the first bite. I asked him what it tasted like and he said, "kangaroo." They have crazy meat on one of the meat counters at the market. I'm thinking we'll just try everything within reason.

Ethiopian Feast

2010-03-19T19:35:00.001-07:00

Jesselyn and I both teach at the same school. She teaches Primary French, I teach Junior English. Apart from that, we have a whole lot in common. We like to eat and laugh. Oh, we also like Anthony Bourdain - a lot, though I suspect I may like him A LOT more a lot than Jesselyn. He's the droll host of No Reservations: a kind of rock 'n roll food/travel show that validates my existence.

Watching Tony in action, Jesselyn and I have dreamed of eating different things in off the beaten paths of Toronto. Yesterday we made our first stop at Lalibela, a wonderful Ethiopian restaurant on Danforth between Coxwell and Greenwood. These are my stomping grounds.

The restaurant has been open at this location for five months. There is another Lalibela on Bloor Street, if that location suits you better. Either way, get yourself over there ASAP!
Happy sandwich board of featured items greets hungry pedestrians clomping down the Danforth.
Here is Jesselyn giving two enthusiastic thumbs up to the massive platter of food that arrived for us to dine upon.
This is a bit of everything, including savoury lamb and chicken dishes, cheese, hard boiled egg, collard greens, beans and more. A thin layer of their traditional bread (sorry, I forgot what it is called) lines the platter. Like crazed lab rats, we ate through most of what you see here.
In Ethiopian culture, you use your hands when you eat. I've heard this before, so I wasn't surpirsed. They give you plenty of this delicious spongy bread to scoop up and sop up the goodness. I love that you use your hands. It makes the experience so earthy and intimate. I just imagine large family gatherings where everyone just shares this wonderful food.
We were there in the early afternoon, so we had the restaurant pretty much to ourselves. The staff were happy that we were so into the food and learning about the culture.

We ordered coffee and the woman who took our order asked if we wanted the "coffee ceremony." Naturally we said yes. First off, the owner paraded the pan of roasting coffee beans through the restaurant to show us these glorious black pods of caffeiney bliss doing their thing. The smell was pungent and smokey. After a few minutes, he brought the coffee set to the table.
Along with the coffee came incense (which I'm holding) and popcorn of all things. It seemed unusual, but after enjoying the treacle-like brew, we were happy to have some light, buttery nibbles. And I thought I could not eat another bite. There's always room for popcorn. I'm a happy woman when dark roasted coffee is near me.
Check out the pretty coffee pot sitting on a woven basket. Love it. With tax and tip we feasted like gluttonous queens and enjoyed a whole new coffee experience for $40.00. You must go. Now!

- Erin

P.S. We've vowed to seek out beautiful food in untrendy restaurants near our school during lunch hour. Stay tuned.

Toronto East End vs West End

2010-03-13T18:37:00.000-08:00

St. Augustine Seminary off Kingston Road: One of the many surprises you'll find in Toronto's East end. I find this building at once beautiful and eerie. I wouldn't want to stay overnight in the building.

I just flipped through NOW Magazine. It's an alternative weekly paper that has been going for as long as I can remember. This week, the cover story is about which end of Toronto is better: East or West. I can only think that the publisher was hoping to get readers fired up and involved in a great debate. I found the whole thing underwhelming. There are pros and cons to both ends of Hogtown. I think it comes down to the areas you've spent most of your time living in and thus connect with the most. The funny thing was that the arguments in favour of the east end pointed to the more obvious haunts mainly in the West end of the east end, if that makes sense. As a long time East End Girl, I could have suggested some alternatives that only hardcore East Enders would know about: the five pin bowling alley at Coxwell and Danforth with the frozen in time interior, Mountain Lion Taxidermy Studio on Broadview, the beautiful Jewish cemeteries in East Toronto, the night markets at Vic Park and Danforth... Heck, I've documented a lot of these places on this blog on previous posts.

As a child, I grew up in North Toronto (Yonge & Eglinton). We shared a house with my grandmother. When she finally passed away, the house was sold and the money was split between my mother and her now deceased brother. My parents couldn't buy another house in the area, so they bought a backsplit out in Guildwood Village in Scarborough. From this point on, I became an East Ender. My first apartment was in the Eglinton/Mt. Pleasant area. It was a cute bachelor with an old-fashioned bathtub. I really liked that place.

When I got married, we found this gigantic two bedroom apartment a few blocks West of my bachelor. The rent was dirt cheap. Soon after, we realized why we got such a sweet deal: cockroaches, mice, creaky floors, freaky tenants, crazy superintendents who smoked like chimneys and always seemed to be frying bacon when we'd go to deliver the rent. Throw in the aroma of many cats to the mix and the smell was positively gag-inducing. Eventually, we became sick of the neighbourhood. We had to fight rollerbladers and pizza delivery trucks just to cross the road and the lineups in front of the trendy restaurants on Yonge Street made it almost unbearable.

Next up was a one-bedroom apartment in a high rise building on Hogarth in the Broadview/Danforth area. We loved the neighbourhood. Riverdale had its share of yoga Yuppies, but I still felt relaxed and happy there. Everything you needed was nearby. At the time, I was very busy as a freelance music journalist. I remember meeting up with many local musicians on patios at local bars for interviews. Greektown was on our doorstop.

With our rent increasing all the time, we did the unthinkable and crammed into a bachelor for a year while we saved up money to put a down payment on our first house. We basically lived out of boxes for a year while we slummed it in the Broadview/Cosburn area. In the end, it paid off as we found a semi-detached in the Coxwell/Mortimer area that was within our budget. We bought the house over 10 years ago and paid $158,000 for it ($1,000 under asking price, because we had to buy a new furnace). Now our house would fetch $400,000. I'm not bragging. I'm more sickened by the way the market works and I feel badly for a young couple trying to purchase their first home today.

I do like our neighbourhood. It's livable and there are so many little hidden gems like Ethiopian restaurants, the funkiest library in the city (S. Walter Stewart). There are also tons of little off-beat shops that sell all kinds of weird things you may or may not need. It's not trendy and I like the east end for that. I'll always be an East Ender - but I do like getting lost in the West end because I don't know every back alley. It surprises me.

I can't wait to hop on my bike again this summer and document my weird adventures on this here blog.

Erin

The Car of my Dreams

2010-02-24T21:34:00.000-08:00

If I could wave a magic wand and have any car I like it would be this beauty: a Karmann-Ghia. Love it.

Object of Husband's Desire - Dodge Challenger

2010-02-06T19:42:00.001-08:00

Ever since he saw the movie Vanishing Point, my English-born husband has dreamed of owning a Dodge Challenger. Toronto might be a far cry from the Southwest desert, but look what I discovered parked near our house back in the fall...

Yes, it's the new Dodge Challenger with the 6-L V8 engine, hemi whatever, etc. For all my eco crowing, I have to admit, this is one smoking car. If I had a pile of money I'd buy it for him. Love the sound of the engine.
You can't mistake the front or back. Accept no substitutes.
I love how Duncan got the car pose figured out at such an early age. He's got a Hot Wheels replica of it. That may have to pacify our Challenger dreams for now. I'll try to post my dream car another time.

Erin

Object of My Desire

2010-02-01T18:13:00.000-08:00

Realistically I have a better chance of being struck by lightning than being able to buy a Cervélo bike. My husband thinks I could get a low-end model from this deluxe Canadian bike manufacturer in the $500.00 range. I've looked into it. I might be lucky to buy one wheel for that. The frames alone, at least the 2010 models for serious mountain-climbing Tour de France cyclists, are in the $3000-$4000 range.

I'm dreaming of slightly warmer weather and thinking about either joining a cycling club, or convincing a friend or family member to cycle out of town if only for a day. Can't wait for the Tour de France again.

Eat Something Different

2009-12-28T11:35:00.000-08:00

Disappear into a different menu and have an adventure eating in your city or town.

Disappear Into the Natural World

2009-12-23T12:16:00.000-08:00

Last week, the Toronto Field Naturalists advertised one of their walks in the local paper. Now that I'm off for a two-week break, I had the time to join the group as they hiked around the Beechwood Wetlands and Sun Valley.

Tools of the trade. It was a cold, sunny day that makes you feel romantically Canadian.
Here, the intrepid group marches down a paved path, looking for signs of life in the freezing grassy area.

If you look closely in the top, left-hand corner, you'll see a chickadee.

The frozen river was still the place to be for mallard ducks.

The top of this hill is Leaside. According to our tour guide, it was once the shore of Lake Iroquois. The lake would have been where we were standing.

The frozen weir, installed to keep sea lamprey out of the river.

Ice curtain

For more information on getting lost with the Toronto Field Naturalists, visit their website at http://www.torontofieldnaturalists.org

Back Again

2009-12-20T08:44:00.000-08:00

Day of the Dead at Harbourfront

Hello to anyone reading this. You may have noticed that this blog has changed. Due to my busy job teaching, I was unable to get out with my camera nearly as much as I had wanted to in the fall. For this reason, I've decided to lose the Toronto-centric blog name and switch it to something more enigmatic. Full disclosure: I borrowed the new blog name "Five Ways to Disappear" from Kendra Smith's darkly bohemian record from 1995 - Five Ways of Disappearing. Hopefully the minor modification made to the name will avoid unnecessary litigation should Ms. Smith catch wind.

I'm not sure where this blog is going. I'm just going to follow my instincts and write and photograph as I feel. I'm hoping to track down all of the restaurants in Toronto that have been made-over on "Restaurant Makeover." It's a show that I've become addicted to for no apparent reason. Come back.

Sky Architecture

2009-09-16T20:05:00.000-07:00

High wires in the field beside Thomson Memorial Park.

Scarborough: September 13, 2009.

Behind the Bride

2009-09-06T19:16:00.000-07:00

Early Evening QEW

2009-09-02T19:22:00.000-07:00

Christine's Livelihood and Happy Coffee at the Delightful Restaurant

2009-08-03T11:52:00.000-07:00

It's hard to tell whether or not Christine's Livelihood (Gerrard and River St.) is flourishing or not. The space looked papered up, but they had a sandwich board with specials out on the sidewalk.

The Delightful Restaurant (Logan and Queen St.) is never open when I go past. If you look closely to the left of the groovy beaded curtain, you'll see they sell Happy Coffee. What I'd give for a cup.

Chinatown East

2009-08-02T05:54:00.000-07:00

Chinatown East is a web of homes, stores, and restaurants in the Broadview/Gerrard area. It is not as large as Chinatown on Spadina, nor is it as flashy as the Pacific Mall-area businesses north of the city. Nevertheless, Chinatown East has so much character. I set out on my bike the last evening of July. Aphids were thick and the stench of garbage filled the air. I realized how much I love this neighbourhood in all of it's shabby, colourful splendor. Many businesses have gone under and several storefronts along Gerrard are papered up. Still, people were out in full force: talking, laughing, shopping for vegetables and fruit. This is why we're here.

Mountain Lion Taxidermy Studio

2009-08-01T05:37:00.000-07:00

Mountain Lion has been in the Broadview/Danforth area as long as I can remember. I've never actually seen anyone in there, but I imagine the taxidermist to be an elderly man who wears overalls covered with assorted blood stains.

A cactus, a stuffed fox, and a bunch of skulls grace the front window.

Skulls hover over Tim Hortons cups used as seedling pots.

Assorted stuffed animals.

I wonder if the stuffed animals are the owner's personal trophies, or if they were never picked up by customers.

A severed bear's head sits angrily on a work table.

View from the back. I was wondering if there was a blood-and-guts holding tank out back, but the taxidermist must do all the grisly work in the basement.

Potentially cute backyard. It's the perfect space to barbecue a tofu dog after a long day of gutting animals.

Noah's Ark and the Masons

2009-07-30T20:46:00.001-07:00

Noah's Ark is a beer hole at the corner of Dawes and Danforth. No dress code. Teeth, optional.

This grand old Masonic Temple is behind the KFC on Chisholm at Danforth. I've always been fascinated by the Masons. I imagine secret handshakes and men forced to put apples on their heads while some blindfolded master carpenter goes around chopping them in half with a cutlass.

Lonely Night at Woodbine Laundry

2009-07-29T09:01:00.000-07:00

Driftwood and Dead Fish in Newcastle

2009-07-28T07:12:00.000-07:00

Life and death on the shores of Lake Ontario: Newcastle - July 26th, 2009.

Chinese Lunch Truck

2009-07-24T20:25:00.000-07:00

This evening, I rode down Dundas Street East.

This weather-beaten Chinese lunch truck was parked in someone's backyard on a side street off Dundas Street East. If you enlarge the photo and look very closely, you'll see potted plants on the rooftop above the driver's seat.
The old Woods building with train crossing in the background.
Faded old sign on a convenience store at the corner of Leslie and Gerrard. A man was pacing back and forth in front of this store. He made me nervous. I may have made him nervous too.

This side street runs off Leslie. Gazing down the hill, I liked how it made me feel slightly uneasy.

Psychic in Neon Light

2009-07-21T18:46:00.000-07:00

As seen on Queen Street East July 19th, 2009.

Walkers With the Dawn

2009-07-20T20:02:00.000-07:00

Walkers With the Dawn

Being walkers with the dawn and morning,
Walkers with the sun and morning,
We are not afraid of night,
Nor days of gloom,
Nor darkness--
Being walkers with the sun and morning.

- Langston Hughes

China Lily and the Freaky Storefront on Pape

2009-07-19T19:46:00.001-07:00

Every time we drive to the Price Chopper at Leslie and Lakeshore, we pass by the old China Lily building. I let out a sigh and lament over the fact I don't have any pictures of it. I'm not sure if is still a functioning factory/warehouse. I know little about it, except that it's an building with character. I love the brickwork, the red paint on the windows and doors. Mostly, I love the stylish China Lily sign. I hope this building endures.

In Leslieville, I happened upon this adorable snack bar. I plan to drag Duncan there for a Denver omelette, at which point I'll get some pictures of the interior. They have the classic diner countertop and stools. If you look closely through the glass door, you can see the red stools.

"Adam and Eve on a raft - hold the mayo!"

Here's the coolest exterior on an auto body shop. It's on Eastern Avenue at Leslie (across from Loblaws).

This cool old car is a permanent fixture outside the auto body shop. It's called a Vantage. I don't know who manufactured it. If you know, please send along a comment. I'd love to fix it up and tootle around town in it.

The Maple Leaf Tavern is the closest thing Toronto has to a honky tonk joint. It had the classic stench of stale beer.

Alright, here's THE most off-beat work-live (?) space I have seen in some time. I love skulls and scientific equipment, so I found this place fascinating. A man was walking down the street and saw me taking pictures. "Strange place, eh?" "Yeah, is it an artist's studio?" "I don't know." I guess I'll never know.

A plastic flamingo, a rusty old scale and dinosaur bones (?!) happily coexist. What does it all mean?

Cabinet of boney curiosities.

Freaky bust with nightmarish doll's head impaled on a pike. A portrait of a man who looks Edgar Allen Poe-ish stares out at bewildered pedestrians.

"Craven" a Little Art

2009-07-18T18:41:00.000-07:00

The other night I biked up a street called Craven Road. The odds are stacked against this street in so many ways: the houses are tiny and crammed together, houses are only situated on the east side (a never-ending wooden fence runs along the west side of the road), and the word "craven" means cowardly. Still, this is a street with tons of personality. You can tell that funky people live on this street. The gardens and houses have a cool vibe. It's hard to put my finger on what it is. People in posh communities may not appreciate this.

I stumbled upon this leaf-covered bungalow that had a multi-level cat scratch on the porch. Underneath it, slept a beautiful kitty. I noticed a painting covered the entire front door. Across the street from this house, the home owner decided to beautify the neighbourhood by nailing canvases of his or her artwork to the fence. I love it! This cuts through the boring, grey rules of the city.

It's better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Indeed.

I will try to get more snaps of this interesting street during daylight hours.

- Erin

Out of Luck

2009-07-17T19:20:00.001-07:00

I always thought this was the funniest name for a driving school. "Don't worry about the rules of the road. All you need is a little luck!" Well, Lucky Driving School is no more. The school, located at Coxwell and Gerrard, attracted mainly Chinese people. Will they relocate?

Alley Cat Girl

2009-07-16T20:09:00.001-07:00

One of my sisters was a bit surprised when I told her that I've been exploring the back streets in the east end. She was concerned for my safety and a bit puzzled as to what draws me to alleyways. Although I'm no Lance Armstrong, I do feel safe on my bike - I have a quick out if need be. I also have a good sense of what feels safe and what seems dodgy. I also don't go down alleyways after dark.

I like alleyways because you see the backside of businesses. Storefronts are supposed to attract customers. The backside is purely utilitarian. I like the signs and messages placed on doors by the businesses.

I also like the shabby old garages you see in alleyways and the fact that many people's homes back onto alleyways. You get to peek into people's backyards. Last week, I saw a family picking berries off a tree in an alleyway.

Receiving doors of Hutton - a furniture store in the Main/Danforth area.
Back of wee house in the Dentonia Park neighbourhood. Enchanting.

Cute gate on the enchanting house.

Wall art then and now in the Woodbine/Danforth area.

Big 'ol Olds.

Graffiti and a fire escape. It doesn't get more alley than this.
Greek restaurant offerings above cracked paint graffiti.

Railroads and Rusty Tugs

2009-07-15T20:51:00.000-07:00

Toronto the Bad

Sunday afternoon I went back to my mean streets down by the industrialized portlands. The streets were littered with abandoned coaches. The atmosphere, perfectly still.

St. Monica and the Holy Grail

2009-07-14T14:37:00.000-07:00

After taking my son to a park in the Donlands/Danforth area, we biked down Jones Avenue and then tootled around Gerrard Street East. There are countless back streets to explore.

St. Monica flanked by two halo-like satellite dishes.

Proletariat watering hole.

Private parking in an alley off Gerrard.

Back of a toothpaste green house with flowing lace curtain.
Gerrard Cinema. I like the eighties video game arcade font on the sign. This theatre seems to be showing Indian films, but it could be a different culture.
The Holy Grail of cool, old storefronts in Toronto: Delta Electric Motor Repair at Leslie and Gerrard. I've been past this place dozens of times, but I've never had my camera.

Today my dream came true. Isn't it great?

While I was snapping away, a man came out to say hello. I'm sure he found my enthusiasm for Delta to be over the top, but he was happy to tell me that it's a family business that's been going for over 50 years. He sounded German, but I could be way off.
I praised his family for not changing anything in five decades.
I hope this business continues for another 50 years. If something goes terribly wrong, at least I have my pictures.

The Funky Front Yard Knight of East York

2009-07-13T19:39:00.000-07:00

I think I've finally located the home of my nutty Medieval Literature professor from York University.

Tom Thomson Saga Continued

2009-07-13T19:18:00.000-07:00

Here's a story about the mystery of Tom Thomson as told by Roy MacGregor in last Thursday's Globe and Mail. MacGregor's column (This Country) are always a wonderful read.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009 06:38 PM

Pricey paintings by artist as a (forever) young man

Canoe Lake, Algonquin Park, Ont. – He will be 39 forever – even though it is exactly 92 years since he was last seen alive.

Tom Thomson, strangely, seems to get younger every year; or perhaps it is just because the rest of us are aging and his dark hair never lightens, his eyes never lose that sparkle.

Only a couple of weeks ago, a small sketch of his, Birches and Cedar, possibly painted in his final months, sold for $1,404,000 at auction – just short of the $1,463,500 record his art set a couple of years ago, when the world was flush with walking-around money and no one even imagined such a financial collapse was imminent.

To hold your own in the art world at a time like this speaks volumes.

But then Tom Thomson, of course, is one of those rare people – James Dean and Marilyn Monroe come to mind, Michael Jackson may one day – whose fame vastly increases after an untimely passing.

He once asked a friend back in Toronto to try to sell one of those tiny sketches for him. He was hoping for as much as $10 or $15 for it, but, as he closed out his note, “let it go for what they will give.”

Thomson wasn’t alone in underestimating his worth. He left a dozen or so of these little sketches with his girlfriend, Winnifred Trainor, who lived in the nearby small town of Huntsville. She kept them wrapped in newspaper and stuffed in a six-quart basket. When she died in 1962, she didn’t even have hot water in her place.

The ancient birch tree that marks the little Canoe Lake cemetery.

Her old cottage on Canoe Lake is still standing, preserved almost as it was back in 1917 when Thomson would sometimes hang his paintings there to dry. Out back of her place is a trail that twists and turns and arrives, eventually, at the little Canoe Lake cemetery where he was buried in July, 1917, after his body surfaced just off that small island near the far shore.

Is he still there? Did he drown? Or was he murdered? Was there a baby coming?

"Someday they will know what I mean."

Such a nice, enigmatic thought to leave behind if you are leaving far too soon.

But then, almost everything about Tom Thomson – his extraordinary art excluded – is an enigma.

He was last seen, so it is said, paddling away from the dock of Mowat Lodge at 12:50 p.m. by Shannon Fraser, the proprietor of the lodge. Fraser says he was careful to check his watch.

Some, of course, now say Fraser was careful to check his watch because he was building an alibi. Late in the 1970s, Daphne Crombie, who had stayed at Mowat Lodge the winter of 1916-1917 and had befriended both Thomson and Fraser’s wife, Annie, came forward to say that Annie had confessed to her that her husband had killed Thomson in a fist fight.

The argument had been over money – Thomson demanded back a small loan he had made Fraser in order to buy canoes for the lodge. Thomson needed the money, Annie claimed, because a note had arrived from Winnie Trainor demanding that he get a new suit because they would “have to get married,” the presumption being that a child was on the way. It was strongly believed that Thomson and Trainor were engaged; he had apparently even booked a honeymoon cabin at Billy Bear Lodge, halfway between Canoe Lake and Huntsville.

How Thomson died, Annie Fraser told Daphne Crombie, was when he fell from a Shannon blow and struck his head on the fire grate. She was then forced by her husband to help him “stage” a drowning. They got Thomson into his canoe, tied a weight to one ankle using the artist’s own fishing line, then towed him out under cover of darkness and dumped the canoe.

When Thomson’s bloated body surfaced more than a week later, he had fishing line carefully wrapped 16 to 17 times around an ankle and had clearly suffered a blow to his temple, with blood flowing from his ear.

He was buried in the little Canoe Lake cemetery, a farce of a coroner’s inquiry having declared “accidental death by drowning” – the coroner never even looked at the body – and the body was then said to have been exhumed and shipped off to Owen Sound for burial in the Thomson family plot at Leith.

Few believe he was ever moved from the site, the lone undertaker working by himself into the night and leaving behind what looked like a gopher hole worth of digging. Men who moved the casket from one train to another said it was too light and contained only sifting sand.

Others, of course, say he was indeed moved, but the Thomson family, bless them all, has never allowed the Leith casket to be dug up and checked.

A marker erected over where Tom Thomson may or may not lie.

It all adds magnificently to the endless mystery, as there are today almost as many theories about his death as there were larger canvases left behind by the painter of The West Wind and The Jack Pine.

One book claimed he was murdered by another cottager jealous of Thomson’s affections for Winnie Trainor, shot through the temple as he canoed down the lake.

One book claimed he stood up in his canoe to take a leak, fell and smashed his temple on the canoe.

They say he slipped on a portage and struck his head and fell into the water and drifted to where he was found.

They say he committed suicide, despondent over the prospects of marriage – though how someone kills themselves and then disposes of his own body is a bit of a puzzle.

There is even a theory out there that he and his canoe were plucked from the water by a sudden whirlwind that spun them high in the air – thereby wrapping the fishing line around the ankle – and then dropped both back into the lake, Thomson already unconscious from having struck the canoe while spinning in the air.

Even once you push through the wet grass and duck under the fallen pines to reach this little cemetery on the hill overlooking Canoe Lake, the mystery deepens.

The debate is always whether he lies in the grave just beyond the massive birch that marks the cemetery – two others, one a mill worker and one an eight-year-old boy who died of diphtheria in 1915, are buried here – or in yet another grave that one old-timer claimed lay deeper yet into the bush.

According to that curious account, Thomson’s bush friends were so upset that he might be exhumed and carted away to “civilization,” they robbed the grave themselves before the undertaker could arrive to begin the exhumation.

The reason there was only sand in the coffin, this old-timer said with a grin, was because that was all the undertaker found when he dug down.

Such an incredible story, with mysteries within puzzles within enigmas.

And let us all be grateful for Tracy Thomson’s attitude. The artist’s great-grandniece, herself an accomplished artist, says she hopes the great mystery is never solved.

“I fear that once people know the truth,” she once said, “that’s the end of the intrigue and the chatter about it.”

Amen to that.

Bruised Clouds Over Dawes Road

2009-07-12T19:07:00.001-07:00

During my power bike ride after dinner tonight I saw...

a man on a scooter pass a coin laundry,

East York Curling Club,

curling persuasion,

an old timey corner store,

an old sign for 7up,

a message to "fresh up,"

a sign with "a-peel,"

a gospel church with a dirty sign,

Duffy's Drive-in,

happy patrons on the patio,

a convenience store straight out of an Edward Hopper painting,

a weather-beaten door,

East York propaganda,

a hair salon with attitude,

a picture of a man wearing a blow-out comb,

a postcard waiting to happen,

celestial clouds,

a Tim Burton-esque suburban enclave,

fragrant streets, ranch-style bungalows, an Air Stream camper...

and a long goodbye up a steep hill.

Tattered Roxy

2009-07-12T07:17:00.001-07:00

Toronto has a bad habit of knocking down buildings of historical significance. This situation seems to be slowly improving, but there's always sharky developers swimming around looking to tear down a beautiful old building to make room for another condo or parking lot. This is an old story and I'm sure it's not unique to Toronto.

This brings us to the old Roxy Theatre. It sits close to the corner of Danforth and Greenwood. It's a fine example of Art Deco in a city that doesn't have much. There was talk that the theatre was going to be torn down to make room for a Petro Canada. Over a year ago, I read in the paper that the gas company was planning to save the original facade. I'm not sure how this will work, or if it will. I just wish some stinking rich philanthropist had come along and restored the theatre.

In the eighties, the Roxy used to be a Rep cinema. I have memories of dressing up and going there to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show. I also remember being in Grade 10 and going out to the Roxy with my friends to see Letter To Brezhnev there. Looking back, I'm partly impressed and partly amused that 15-year-olds would choose to see that film in that cinema.

Latterly, the cinema was used for Bollywood-style films. There may have been some sort of banquet facility inside as well.

The yellow monster does its thing beside the Roxy.

Across from the Roxy, you'll find a string of sketchy watering holes. A bright light is the new Obama Cafe. I haven't been in there, but I'm impressed that someone had so much faith in this newly minted president, that they named a restaurant after him. Who doesn't love Obama?

Obamarific breakfast combos.

The desolate Greenwood Coin Laundry sits beside the Obama Cafe.

I thought I knew all the nooks and crannies in my surrounding hood. I stumbled upon this unattractive park in the Greenwood/Danforth area: all weeds and no playground.

It did have a bumpy trail.

I also liked the rickety bridge over nothing. It turns out that the park straddles the Greenwood TTC train yards. The park appears to belong to the TTC. No frills, no thrills.

Condor Avenue did not have a city street sign, so someone created a homemade sign and stuck it to a wooden pole.

Classic corner store.

This home on Jones Avenue looked like another boarded up "haunted" house.

The intrepid Pape IGA delivery van stopped across from another dry cleaner.

Open for ventilation.

I'm always curious about these store front businesses that have no signs and have curtains pulled across. Do people live in these spaces, or are they a front for shady stuff?

Bleached by the sun.

At the top of Jones Avenue, I stopped to take a picture of a church, but became distracted by this sweeping lady. I was amazed by her commitment to keeping her turf clean.

Away dirt!

Jewish Cemeteries in Toronto Pt. 2 - Goel Tzedec Cemetery

2009-07-11T19:08:00.000-07:00

Riding my bike down Jones Avenue this afternoon, I found myself in front of Goel Tzedec Cemetery - otherwise known as Jones Avenue Cemetery. I did a little investigating and this cemetery appears to be the second oldest Jewish cemetery in the city (Pape Avenue/Holy Blossom being the oldest). This cemetery is closed to the general public, so I was not able to photograph anything beyond the front exterior. Although I yearned to visit the grounds, I'm relieved that the graves are safe from vandalism. It's a shame that in this day and age this is still a consideration.

There is a short documentary about Holy Blossom Cemetery on Pape Avenue at the Star's website at /www.thestar.com/videozone/415667. I will try to locate this cemetery on another excursion.

Under the Ivy

The graceful wall sprawls along Jones Avenue.

Under lock and key.

Look closer...

and closer.

A barbed wire fretboard stretched out over clouds.

Tour de France With Kraftwerk

2009-07-11T04:38:00.000-07:00

I follow the Tour de France for the breathtaking landscapes as much as anything. Kraftwerk are obsessed with the oldest bike race. Apparently the band members ride the course when they're not creating perfect electronic music. Here are two versions of their song "Tour de France." Ride on!

Twilight in an East York Alley

2009-07-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

Lawn Bowlers Under an Inky Sky

2009-07-10T05:45:00.000-07:00

Lawn bowling is popular in East York. I loved the fact that the bowlers at the Cosburn Park Lawn Bowling Club were so engrossed in their game that they were oblivious to the stormy sky.

Abolitionist U-Haul

2009-07-09T13:53:00.000-07:00

We happened upon this U-Haul while walking to the park today. I'm used to seeing U-Hauls festooned with images of people sport fishing. It was a welcome surprise to see U-Haul highlighting Canada's history as a safe haven for people fleeing slavery. I think U-Haul is trying to encourage people to learn more about this chapter of our history. The company has a website you can go to for more information. What do you think?

The Matador

2009-07-07T20:34:00.000-07:00

The Matador is an old country music club in the west end of town. Over a year ago, I heard that the club would be closing down. I just discovered a site devoted to preserving the Matador. Apparently it has been saved. Go to http://savethematador.com for details. Power to the people!

Gutter Ball

2009-07-06T18:57:00.000-07:00

These photos were taken two blocks west of Coxwell Avenue along the back alley that runs behind the shops on the north side of Danforth Avenue. Shot today.

Honeysuckle Hands

2009-07-06T13:11:00.000-07:00

Walking down the street this afternoon, I noticed this woman lovingly tending to her honeysuckle.

Centralia: a Sad and Beautiful Town

2009-07-05T09:45:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail. It's a fascinating and quite often side-splittingly funny read. In it, Bryson describes the unbelievable lost town of Centralia, PA. It was once a thriving mining town until 1962, when a fire ignited the coal mines. Writes Bryson, "On Highway 61, the pavement grew warm to the touch, then began to crack and settle, rendering the road unstable... Today Centralia isn't really even a ghost town. It' just a big open space with a grid of empty streets still surreally furnished with stop signs and fire hydrants. Every thirty feet or so there is a neat, paved driveway going fifteen or twenty yards to nowhere." I've done a little research on Centralia and discovered a website featuring Donald Davis' infrared photos of Centralia that reveal the beauty and sorrow of this forgotten place. Go to http://www.offroaders.com/album/centralia/Donald-Davis-bw-photography.htm

Pape-opolis

2009-07-04T18:58:00.001-07:00

If you're not from Toronto, Danforth and Pape is the heart of Greek Town. If you venture north on Pape, you'll reach Pape Village. It's a nice mix of multi-ethnic businesses and some of the best bakeries in town. Cheap and cheerful it is. Join me as I bike along Pape.

Before I hit Pape, I noticed the knife sharpening man had stopped to sharpen the blades on a push mower. I LOVE the paint job on the truck and I love the little bell he dings by hand as he drives slowly through the side streets.

Bebe has been around forever. I don't think they've changed the window display in years either. Same creepy child mannequins.

Home-based psychic. I'm impressed by her hours of business. When does she get to the supermarket?

We laugh, but dry cleaning could soon be recognized as an Olympic sport. They've accepted just about everything else.

The denture plate is a bit off putting, but they'll make you smile!

Great deals on European cold cuts.

Wonderful old barbershop. I'm not sure what they call the spinny thing at the side, but it was actually spinning. They should film movies here so that Jack can retire comfortably.

Looks like an Irish brotherhood, but it's some sort of Greek guys club.
I love the exterior of the Danish Pastry Shop. Years ago in journalism school, a close friend (who happens to be Danish) spent the wee hours of the morning taking pictures of the bakers making the sweets for the day.

Fruit and vegetable market.

When I was at journalism school, we were all required to interview a local politician. I had to interview a trustee. She arranged for us to meet at the East York Restaurant. I remember thinking at the time that the name of the restaurant was ridiculously unoriginal. Anyway, we were required to get the age of our subject. As soon as I met the trustee, I could see she was around the age of my mother (at the time). I knew she wouldn't tell me how old she was. I was right. She lambasted me for asking such an insensitive question. Now that I look back at the shifty sidewalk clutter outside the restaurant, I'm disappointed that a politician would take a nineteen-year-old student to such a grim place and that she would be so mean. Shame on you, whoever you were!

German import spare tire cover.

Coffee Lime. What kind of name is that for a coffee shop? See picture below.

Oh... I get it. Coffee Time, Coffee Lime. I guess it's all the same.

Cool black Merc stationwagon.

Donlands Bakery. I wonder if it was once on Donlands, or if they just like confusing people.

(Below) Vintage wedding cake topper seen through the window of Donlands Bakery.

In Every Dream Home A Heartache

2009-07-04T11:54:00.000-07:00

Every neighbourhood has at least one mysterious house. These homes are the kind of places that people stop and stare at. Kids tell stories about ghosts and bad things that happened there a long time ago.

Yesterday I took a few snaps of this spooky house I've spent countless hours looking at. You see, it's right in front of a bus stop that I wait at to catch a bus home from work. The windows are all papered over, styrofoam insulation leans against the front, and the back drive looks like the lock-up scene in Silence of the Lambs. Only once did I see a man enter the house. He appeared to be middle-aged and was carrying a couple of grocery bags. Who knows what really goes on inside. Perhaps the man might actually be a charming fellow who runs a bird sanctuary. Maybe he was lugging home bags of feed for his feathered friends the day that I saw him. He might be a hermit with newspapers stacked to the ceilings. Or, he could be a hiding out from the cops.

I'm starting to wonder if anyone even lives there now, as the screen door was padlocked shut. A man who lives in the house next door came out to get a newspaper. I wanted so badly to ask him about the spooky house beside him. I chickened out and my bus came before I could pluck up the courage. The story will just have to play out in my mind.

Cut grass and a gnarly old spruce do their best to add curb appeal to this mysterious house in Scarborough. And to think it was once someone's dream home.

Garbage and recycling bins indicate signs of life.

A row of hooks lined up above the window. Do they serve an innocent purpose or something more sinister? You decide.

Don't lift the tarp! It will only end in great misery for us all.

Just before my bus came, a man came happily chugging down the normally busy street on a tractor. Happy trails!