Monday, September 28, 2009

At Queen's Park - day 53

Trees are falling in the Queen's Park. When I came this morning there was only gigantic stump shaped like slingshot, pointing out its stripped of branches trunks to the sky, were the old tree stood before. George brown was gazing at it with amusement.

Group of native people stopped over on their walk to Ottawa. There was a small crew of very young people filming them and making interview with them, but no TV news crews came down to great them. There was laugher, but also an aura of sadness around them. The smoke of sweet grass strangely reminded me smell of autumn potato picking when my mother was burning the weeds and potato leafs and stems. I miss that. Autumn was always my favourite time of the year. After rush of the summer tourists season and farm work there it was coming with sounds of leafs under my feet, and bright sun pouring through the bright yellow maple tree on the dark blue background of the sky.

As I was writing this I raised my head and that is ho I saw: Hazel McCallion the mayor of of Mississauga. She is an exceptional lady. She is little power house, and she has been a mer of Mississauga for 31 years. She is a living legend and a prof of how much one person can do. Not everybody is equal in their abilities. I admire her. I think if she, or somebody like her, was running the federal and provincial governments autistic children and other disable people in Canada would be taken care of, and I would not have to protest.

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