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Standing in the dark (almost)
Mar. 29th, 2009 06:09 pmI participated in Earth Hour last night. Russ was working at a trade show (selling corsets), so I was on my own. At 8:30, I shut down my computer, turn off the TV, and turn out all my lights. It seems very dark for a moment, and then my eyes adjust and find the light: street lights out front, porch lights from across the alley out back, the neighbour’s bathroom light straight through my bedroom window...
I go for a walk. I pass one house that seems to be participating; candles flicker in their windows and laughter pours out into the night. Other houses are dark, but it feels like no one is home. Most houses are lit as normal for a Saturday night. I thought that in my neighbourhood of young artists, more people would be participating.
I walk to Strathcona Park, one of the darkest places in my area because it's a large city block park with a soccer field and a baseball diamond and no street lamps in the centre. Well, it seems very dark unless you are hoping for – searching for – dark quiet.
I start to walk the perimeter, but no matter which way I go, I'm heading toward lights. On one side, Prior Street is roaring with cars. At the far end of the park, the industrial park is glaringly lit and rattling away.
As I walk to the centre of the park, I pass a bench and someone is sitting there. I don't see them until they move; it's dark enough for that. I can't see if it's a man or a woman, only that they are just sitting there; perhaps a fellow seeker of dark quiet. I nod and walk on.
I love the city. I sleep to the sound of traffic. I love that I can walk to almost anything I want or need. But I do wish that it could've been different for an hour.
I get to the ring of boulders in the middle of the park and sit on one of the rocks. Every time a car pulls up the side street to turn on to Prior, their headlights sweep right through the park and seem to be spotlighting me from a block away.
The clouds are thin and reflect back the light pollution. I can pick out four stars that are just determined enough to be visible, and the crescent moon is watching us bustle in our bright night.
I see one other candle-lit house on my walk home.
Then the hour is over.
I go for a walk. I pass one house that seems to be participating; candles flicker in their windows and laughter pours out into the night. Other houses are dark, but it feels like no one is home. Most houses are lit as normal for a Saturday night. I thought that in my neighbourhood of young artists, more people would be participating.
I walk to Strathcona Park, one of the darkest places in my area because it's a large city block park with a soccer field and a baseball diamond and no street lamps in the centre. Well, it seems very dark unless you are hoping for – searching for – dark quiet.
I start to walk the perimeter, but no matter which way I go, I'm heading toward lights. On one side, Prior Street is roaring with cars. At the far end of the park, the industrial park is glaringly lit and rattling away.
As I walk to the centre of the park, I pass a bench and someone is sitting there. I don't see them until they move; it's dark enough for that. I can't see if it's a man or a woman, only that they are just sitting there; perhaps a fellow seeker of dark quiet. I nod and walk on.
I love the city. I sleep to the sound of traffic. I love that I can walk to almost anything I want or need. But I do wish that it could've been different for an hour.
I get to the ring of boulders in the middle of the park and sit on one of the rocks. Every time a car pulls up the side street to turn on to Prior, their headlights sweep right through the park and seem to be spotlighting me from a block away.
The clouds are thin and reflect back the light pollution. I can pick out four stars that are just determined enough to be visible, and the crescent moon is watching us bustle in our bright night.
I see one other candle-lit house on my walk home.
Then the hour is over.
