rattle in Finnish is helistin

Today on my morning walk, I saw a lot of things. I saw the most run-down garage I have seen in awhile. They used to be common when I was a girl, but seems everyone is slapping vinyl up on every standing wood frame building left.

This one doesn't seem worth saving, however. Under the Algoma St. bridge, I saw white supremacist graffiti and swastikas painted on the concrete walls.

Mostly likely, city workers will come out in the morning and paint over it. I saw a black squirrel that had no fur at all on its chest and upper back area, so it looked like it was wearing a vest. With its skin exposed like that, it looked even more like the rodent it is. I saw a pair of ladies thong underwear tossed over the overpass and a used baby diaper, and a whole lot of other unsightly garbage. Down at the water front I had to walk all the way around the paddling pond to pull out of the rocks a huge piece of unsightly plastic that was ruining the symmetry of the photo I wanted to take of the red dogwood.

I saw a pair of blue-winged teal, a male and female. I saw many beautiful reflections down by the waterfront, before the wind suddenly flew in.

I saw two of my friends out jogging and we stopped and chatted. I saw a man I had never met before but we also stopped and chatted about the so-called development of the waterfront. I saw an old white man with big brown liver spots on his face, walking preoccupied. I said, look! See those three goldeneyes? There are two males and one female. Both males are dancing their mating dance and calling out to the female duck, who is swimming non-plussed between them. He looked up and continued on his way.  

Behind the Spirit Garden, I saw some coloured tinsel streamers thrown out on the ground. First, I walked by them, saying to myself, stupid people. But then I decided to tie a few to a dried goldenrod. Before long, I had picked up most of them and tied them on. This was right when the wind picked up, so the streamers were dancing in the wind. It reminded me of the rattle I am making--or maybe the rattle was calling me.

I am almost finished my rattle. The women at ONWA had invited me to join them for their rattle-making workshop. I have to go back this week and pick it up because it was drying.

After I tied the shiny streamers of somebody's garbage onto the dead goldenrod, I headed back home. Before I crossed the train tracks, on the ground, I found two long soft beautiful feathers, one copper, one black. They were attached together with a small piece of metal that had a hole in it. I picked it up off the ground. Perfect! Just what I need for my rattle.