Two days ago, I sat down along the seawall in a t-shirt bathed in warm sunlight.
Yesterday, the clouds were gathering, and a chilly wind blew a flurry of crisp golden leaves against my face as I sat there in my sweater. A young couple paused and pointed to the leaf-shower, and I heard them say the word “fall”.
An elderly couple paused and asked me, “Are you local?” I told them yes and they said that they were from Australia. The man pointed to the horizon, where an atmospheric haze generated by the cooler temperatures had been gathering, dulling the sharp outlines of the freighters lying in the harbour and the coast lines beyond, and asked, “Is that smog?”
It was in a similar tone of voice that another vacationer had once asked me, “Do you know where we can see some beavers?”
When I told him no, he seemed rather disappointed and inclined to argue with me about it. I did not try to convince him.
I could already hear him saying to the folks back home..."and you would not believe the smog in Vancouver!"
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the whirld dervish sat in the midst of whirling leaves, offering his insights to the tourists who refused to see what he could see. They clung stubbornly to their own beliefs which clouded their vision and deprived them
of the light so freely given.
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