Three Things from Edmonton podcast - Episode 78: breaking news, squirrels!, honeybees

Happy end of the week, y'all! Here are three things that made for some happiness and gratitude this week in Three Things from Edmonton, episode 78:  

                         

1. Breaking news 

And oops and smash!

A new ecosmart 60 watt, soft-white LED replacement bulb slipped out of my hand and hit the kitchen floor. I grabbed the broom and the dustbin and swept up the debris field of miniature mirrors. 


What I saw in my mind was the pavement on the 142 Street service road just past Valleyview Drive. For at least two weeks, shards from a broken bottle sat there on the road like chunks of ice that won’t melt. I had pedalled through them and around them and I had pointed them out to other bike riders, but did I stop to clean them up? The whisk I carry wouldn’t have been up to the task. The whisky glass stayed there. 

And the glass might still be there if three unexpected things didn’t happen. First, the cleanup of the broken bulb at home. This suggested to me, obliquely, that broken glass is not destiny. It can be cleaned up. Second, the appearance of the shade of my friend Andy. Andy is a quiet knight of the roadway realm. From his bike and armed with a grabber tool, he can be seen stabbing litter and depositing it in a trash can as he pedals by. Lesson: public property, and not just private property, can be cared for. 


Third, Brad at EPCOR happened. When I arrived at the intersection with a broom, there was a utility crew doing work nearby. I announced that I was finally going to do something with the glass other than ride by it and look at it. Brad grabbed a bigger broom from the back of his truck and together we got the glass cleared. 


I cursed when the light bulb broke. But it did illuminate a few things. I’m fairly lazy when it comes to helping maintain public property. The Andys of the world aren’t. And the Brads of the world are ready to help without even being asked.
See you later, I said to Brad, and to me.



2. Squirrels!

Before squirrel the epithet applied to those said to be attracted to the latest bright, shiny objects, squirrel was just a brand of peanut butter. Those were simpler times, long before the rodent was weaponized by those not fond of bright, shiny objects—or of the people who are. I get the argument against squirrels. The pair I saw on 145 Street made the case themselves. One second they were all play and frolic and let’s run out from under the parked car onto the street and the next they’re, oh, shit, shit, we’re gonna get killed by the dude on the bike, let’s get out of here in all directions at once. They’re all nerves and twitch. Squirrels are what living in the moment actually looks like. Who could get anything accomplished living like that? 


Except, there’s more to squirrels. Yes, they get into danger quickly, but they get out of trouble twice as fast. They know how to abandon a bad idea. Last week, I walked slowly toward a squirrel sitting on the rim of a garbage can in Hawrelak Park. To hide, he jumped into the trash. I looked in with my phone. He flew out so fast I had to slo-mo the video to see him. In trouble and out twice as fast—who wouldn’t want to live like that? Teenaged years, at least.


Sure, squirrels are easily distracted. But what are they distracted from? From the same old, same old. From the status quo. From bad decisions. Besides, I wonder if we would even know the maligned bright and shiny without them.



3. Honeybees 

Last week, an LRT traffic signal downtown was obliterated under a cover of thick, swarming, dripping honeybees. 30,000 of them. The morning the beekeeper started removing them, I went to watch, and to get some drone video. One of the errant bees landed where I was standing. The beekeeper’s wife said to let it crawl onto my hand, it wouldn't hurt me. I bent down, put out my hand, and she was right. 


I am captivated when nature returns to a city. A city, after all, is a highly organized and highly artificial and intensely rational place. Everything from the height of the curbs to the shape of the lane markings to the position of the trash bins and trees has been thought into being. It is a predictable place, a city. When the unpredictable happens—wind battering a stop sign, rain blowing off sewer lids, sun melting pavement, snow burying streets, bees swarming downtown—it is remarkable, and worth taking in. As I watched the bees, a bicycle rider stopped to ask what was going on. A swarm of bees in the city, I said. 

“That’s wild,” she smiled.

Thanks for being out there, friends.

 Three Things, episode 78, is here: https://podcasts.apple.com/.../three.../id1550538856... [5:12] The original music is from Edmonton composer and pianist Brendan McGrath. The end bells are the gift of humanitarian Slavo Cech.



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