I cross the bridge over the Rideau River and quickly scan left and right, glancing at the smear of dark water underneath me and see new green tree branches leaning over the banks disturbing the surface. I look for the Great Blue Heron who fishes in the same spot every morning, still as the rock it perches on. At 6:45, traffic is light and I can slow down if something catches my eye. On Friday, there was nothing. Just the slippery black water, supporting mallard pairs bobbing in the weeds, hunting for breakfast.
But a few weeks ago it was the bend in the road that made me go “ahhh”.
For five years in all seasons I’ve commuted this same route to work. I know what lies around that easy bend among the bland one and two story buildings. There’s a small independent grocery store operated by a Lebanese family, who…
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