Aban's Accension

Chapter 11: The Wild Toronto

El and Aban cross the expanse of stiff grass, passing by a solitary mature chestnut, and enter into the ring of trees and brush that edge the park on three sides. A sign, looking a bit lop-sided, stands beside a set of stairs.

El pauses and explains, “We’re almost there Aban. Come, follow me.”

What do you think I’ve been doing, she mutters under her breath. It’s hot and this city stinks, but here we are walking forever when normal people would be inside. Aban follows him anyway as he trots lightly down the concrete steps, not holding the double metal handrail on his right. The steps disappear steeply into a left-hand curve. The hill seems to be endless. Aban steps heavily down on each step, her hand sliding along the hot top rail next to her, down, down, down. A path of dried grey scree greets them at the bottom. Curved handles for another set of steps sit weirdly at the top of another hill seeming to lead a person into a forest canopy. Sumachs and brush surround and dominate the steps. Tall, wide grass bends towards them. Aban relaxes. It’s not her woods, but it’s not the dusty city either.

El does not continue down. Instead he turns right toward a beaten path of soil and thirsty grass. Rushes, cracking without moisture, grow at the beginning of the path. A tall tower with three rows of outstretched metal arms holding long lines and with cross braces rising up into its head, waits for them in the distance. Telephone poles, with their little crosses at the top and three strings of line, seem to march alongside the path they’re on.

El gestures for her to come up alongside him and waits for her until she does. He and she walk in silence, El slowing down to her pace. It is hushed in this space. No other person is in sight. It’s the two of them alone in the wild bones of Toronto.

El begins to speak. “When Toronto was formed, glaciers came along here. They packed the land and created Lake Algonquin, and great rivers sprung up to feed this giant lake. As the ice receded, the rocks and stones underneath the ice gouged out the land or dropped to form hills that sit here and there like strangers in the field. The land sprang back up after the weight of the glaciers had left. The great rivers shrank, leaving behind the steep hills of their banks, their fertile floors, and creeks and slim rivers as a remembrance of what they once were. These old river valleys are called “ravines.” Pockets of them rise up at the ends of streets as dark woods or parks where dogs can sniff and run around and the people can find respite. But the main ones run north and south from Lake Ontario into the country, branching off into neighbourhoods and disappearing under the streets.

“At one time, politicians kept these ravines tidy. Their idea of nature was to groom it. But a few years ago, people called upon the politicians to let their ravines be. Clipped grass gave way to nature growing as she saw fit. The Carolinian forest used to inhabit southern Ontario, even Toronto. Most of it is gone, but the people and the politicians decided to find out more about Toronto’s native plants, and they planted them. Slowly, the earth has rebounded and brought forth an abundance of growth. In the Fall, these native plants and trees will spring into their colours of red and purple and gold.”

Aban says, “I joined Greenpeace 'cause they really care about the environment, you know. I raised funds for when they attacked the Japanese for killing whales under that bogus science stuff.  Humans are the worst species on earth. The earth can live better without us. Farley Mowat said so.” Aban falls silent.

El bends toward her, attentive, clasping his hands behind his back.

Aban says, “We need to live in harmony, but we just kill the planet, you know. I mean, we all know climate change is gonna kill us. But the politicians, they think it’s not happening. They say they need more proof. Yeah, proof, like it hasn’t rained all summer. That’s proof, you know. Then there’s our Boreal Forest. Greenpeace is helping keep that, you know. They're the only ones that care. If we cut down those trees, like, they won’t grow again.”