on the proverbial rose-coloured glasses
This week I was filled with lots of different emotions: happiness, wonder, exasperation, relief, fear, and the comforting feeling of finally being settled. Of where I belong.
It was my last week at my job. When the week started, no one had been hired as my replacement. That was bad for the company but good for me as I could do what I normally did and say goodbye on Friday. And then Wednesday, I was told they’d hired a woman and she’d start Thursday, giving me two entire days to show her my rather detailed duties.
My calm happiness was quickly replaced with “how can I ever show her everything in two days” anxiety. Eeek! Luckily, I’d written a procedure manual and am organised to a fault. So I ignored things as they arrived in my inbox so that I could show her and left at noon Wednesday. It was a perfect day: sunny, warm, and with a light breeze. I took the long(er) way home and boarded the 151 Sheridan bus at Union Station.
I sat back and enjoyed the ride up Michigan Avenue and along the Magnificent Mile and was reminded of how grateful I am to live in such a beautiful and big city. I got off the bus at Fullerton and walked to one of the little gems, the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool. The trees were in bloom and the scene before my eyes was idyllically spring.
I wandered through and felt calmed by the flowers, the gurgle of the small waterfall, and the utter peace. I came across a couple, talking quietly, and a knitting mother and her photographer son. I cursed myself for not having a proper camera, but quickly stopped. This visit was unplanned, like most of life’s moments.
Instead I watched the mother mallard duck with her adorable flock of bobbing ducklings and was thrilled again by nature. And then I saw the mother scolding another bird. A heron getting too close to her brood. Chipmunks ran around the rocks at the pool’s edge, and scurried into their burrows, alarmed by this quiet ruckus. A magical moment, for sure.
And then I saw something completely unexpected. A woman sunbathing at the top of a small incline. Why on earth would she do that here? There are all sorts of critters and insects. I just chalked it up to her need for stillness. Or some strange fetish. People are odd.
I strolled back to the entrance and walked to another of my favourite places, North Pond. I walked around the west side and encountered a gosling nursery. A few adults and two piles of babies, a few weeks old, with a sprinkling of onesies and twosomes. Such a sweet scene. A red-winged blackbird flew in front of me, calling for his mate. There were hundreds of snapping turtles sunning themselves on half-submerged trees. Some were as big as land tortoises! Well, almost. It’s seemed as though everything was ecstatic that spring had finally arrived after our very miserable and cold April.
I dragged myself away and walked to Clark Street to catch the bus home. I felt calmed and ready to face my very busy next two workdays. My too brief nature hike helped. My replacement was perfect: smart, experienced, and personable. We got through just about everything. I left Friday on good terms and I am looking forward to my first day in my new position at my new place of employment on Monday.
But I couldn’t have done it without my time in nature. It took me out of myself and my worries. It put things into perspective. It centered me. Perhaps these scenes of nature are the rose-coloured glasses we always hear about. Because I feel ready for every challenge and am deliriously optimistic about this next life chapter.
It was my last week at my job. When the week started, no one had been hired as my replacement. That was bad for the company but good for me as I could do what I normally did and say goodbye on Friday. And then Wednesday, I was told they’d hired a woman and she’d start Thursday, giving me two entire days to show her my rather detailed duties.
My calm happiness was quickly replaced with “how can I ever show her everything in two days” anxiety. Eeek! Luckily, I’d written a procedure manual and am organised to a fault. So I ignored things as they arrived in my inbox so that I could show her and left at noon Wednesday. It was a perfect day: sunny, warm, and with a light breeze. I took the long(er) way home and boarded the 151 Sheridan bus at Union Station.
I sat back and enjoyed the ride up Michigan Avenue and along the Magnificent Mile and was reminded of how grateful I am to live in such a beautiful and big city. I got off the bus at Fullerton and walked to one of the little gems, the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool. The trees were in bloom and the scene before my eyes was idyllically spring.
I wandered through and felt calmed by the flowers, the gurgle of the small waterfall, and the utter peace. I came across a couple, talking quietly, and a knitting mother and her photographer son. I cursed myself for not having a proper camera, but quickly stopped. This visit was unplanned, like most of life’s moments.
Instead I watched the mother mallard duck with her adorable flock of bobbing ducklings and was thrilled again by nature. And then I saw the mother scolding another bird. A heron getting too close to her brood. Chipmunks ran around the rocks at the pool’s edge, and scurried into their burrows, alarmed by this quiet ruckus. A magical moment, for sure.
And then I saw something completely unexpected. A woman sunbathing at the top of a small incline. Why on earth would she do that here? There are all sorts of critters and insects. I just chalked it up to her need for stillness. Or some strange fetish. People are odd.
I strolled back to the entrance and walked to another of my favourite places, North Pond. I walked around the west side and encountered a gosling nursery. A few adults and two piles of babies, a few weeks old, with a sprinkling of onesies and twosomes. Such a sweet scene. A red-winged blackbird flew in front of me, calling for his mate. There were hundreds of snapping turtles sunning themselves on half-submerged trees. Some were as big as land tortoises! Well, almost. It’s seemed as though everything was ecstatic that spring had finally arrived after our very miserable and cold April.
I dragged myself away and walked to Clark Street to catch the bus home. I felt calmed and ready to face my very busy next two workdays. My too brief nature hike helped. My replacement was perfect: smart, experienced, and personable. We got through just about everything. I left Friday on good terms and I am looking forward to my first day in my new position at my new place of employment on Monday.
But I couldn’t have done it without my time in nature. It took me out of myself and my worries. It put things into perspective. It centered me. Perhaps these scenes of nature are the rose-coloured glasses we always hear about. Because I feel ready for every challenge and am deliriously optimistic about this next life chapter.
 |
| untitled Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool ©Trish Korous 2018 |
 |
| untitled Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool ©Trish Korous 2018 |
 |
| walking on the moon Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool ©Trish Korous 2017 |
your story is a joy to read. I feel that you are Home, too. where you should be.
ReplyDeletethe photos are beautiful.
Thank you so much, Susan. Yes, despite having much to learn at the moment, I am very happy. xo
Delete