Decline and Fall

Autumn has been both mellowly fruitful and ferociously fraught. One of my brilliant, beautiful, beloved nieces, a college student, became critically ill and hung for a few days on the edge of tragedy, multiple organs failing, in first one then another ICU in Los Angeles (the second one far far better). She is, thanks to the magics of medicine and mother-love, on the mend (not to downplay fatherly devotion, but it does not alliterate). When I last saw my niece, 3 days ago, she was totally sedated and hooked up to numerous devices. Today she ate ice cream and texted my daughter. Miracle girl. The power of youth.

Only days before her precipitous decline, I had been thinking about mortality and the continuity between life and death in a completely different context. I produced these great thoughts while riding my bike through a graveyard. As one does. Toronto is home to the cheerfully-named Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, which is like a huge park that happens to have dead people under it. It has lovely winding paths, greenery, flowers, and now, autumnal colours.

Mt. Pleasant Cemetery, with jogger

I cycled under great arching orange-leaved trees, sharing the way with a mother pushing a baby buggy and a jogger. Life and death united in the nicest possible way. Completely unlike the ICU.

Our own house fares well in the fall, too, mainly thanks to the neighbours' gorgeous Japanese maple. We are grateful.

Our house and the neighbours' maple