Ch.13, Pt. 3: “You mean I can fight this.”
“You mean I can fight this.”
“If you want to. There are local committees all over the area working on similar issues. Harry and I were involved in a number of them. I still am, I guess, for that matter. That’s how I know a bit about Rick Burman. At meetings, he’s always on the side of the developers. He may be partners with some of them.”
“He did mention investors.” Katherine chewed thoughtfully. “Stopping it seems impossible.”
“It may be.” Clara raised a spoonful of soup.
“But you mean that I won’t know unless I try. Yeah, I’m getting to know you by now.” Katherine paused. “And if I fail? Then what?”
“Then I suppose you have to decide whether to stay anyway, or to move.” Spoons clinked against bowls for a few moments.
“How would I start to fight this, if I wanted to?”
“Start talking to people. Neighbours. See who else objects. Come out to some meetings. Get to know the people who’re working on environmental issues.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
“It can be. But you wouldn’t be alone. A lot of people have to do a little bit each. Get to know the town councillors. Some will be on your side.”
“I don’t know if I have the time or energy for all that.”
Clara shrugged. “Just remember that you’re not helpless. Now,” she said, putting both hands on the edge of the table, “more soup? Or do you want to dive into that cheesecake?”
After two slices, Katherine was feeling much more cheerful. She would have loved to spend the afternoon lolling in one of the big armchairs in the living room, but Clara insisted on taking the dogs for a walk. “It’s good for them, but even better for us. And you sound like you need it.”
After the days she had spent staring at nothing in her house, blind to the dustballs of Noodle’s fur that danced up against the baseboards every time she moved between rooms, ignoring her overflowing kitchen garbage can, the air outside was startlingly clear and fresh. The snow was melting into trickles that trailed across the slope of the driveway. Large patches of green grass were showing. Spring had started without her noticing. Something lifted inside her so that she felt a stab of excitement as she used to occasionally as a child.
“Tell me more stories now,” she asked Clara. “You know, about the land. The way you always do when we walk. What there is to notice.”
Clara looked amused. “The main thing now is the birds that are coming back after the winter. The crows are an early sign. Hear them? And there they are, in those tree tops. And you know what that is?”
Katherine listened as Clara raised a finger at a sharp, persistent call. “A blue jay?” Clara nodded and then suddenly they saw a flash of colour up ahead.
“They seem to call more often in late winter. Perhaps because they’re preparing to go further north when it gets too warm.” A distinct laughing call sounded from a tree nearby. “Nuthatch. Where is it? Oh there, walking headfirst down that trunk. See it?” Both watched the tiny bird scooting down the rough bark. “But the most significant sign is the blackbirds. The starlings, grackles and red wings. They come through in flocks, and kick up such a racket. We might see some up ahead.”
They walked in silence. Irma and Noodle bounded together ahead, turning off the path at intervals to investigate things of interest to them. With a twinge, Katherine thought of Goldie and Noodle romping together on her walks with Rick. Not any more. They rounded a curve and came to the pond. Among the dried bullrushes at the edge, a few birds teetered and flapped for balance, showing flashes of red. Their calls were melodious, like newly-melted water burbling over rocks.
“There they are,” Clara said. “Red-winged blackbirds.” The dogs charged at them, sending them curving up into the air with a loud clatter. Katherine groaned in disappointment. “Don’t worry,” said Clara. “They’ll be back soon. Birds aren’t afraid of dogs much.”
Noodle, who was rooting around among the grasses at the pond’s edge, suddenly slipped in up to his belly. Katherine clutched at Clara’s arm, who said “He’ll be okay. It’s not deep.” His ears flattened in dismay, and he looked around in bewilderment before turning and hauling himself up the bank. Katherine relaxed. He looked skinny, his long fluffy fur tight against his body. He began his corkscrew shake, turning his nose slowly one way and then the other, until his whole body caught the twisting motion and the water droplets spun off him. Then he turned to look at the women, his tongue hanging off, water dripping off his belly fur, as if to check whether they were watching. Then he bent his forelegs down in front of Irma in an invitation to play, and quickly raced off. Around the pond the two dogs tore, legs stretching out in front, ears straight back. Clara shook her head and smiled, and then pointed out an old bird’s nest among a dense part of the bullrushes.
“We’re really turning the season’s corner now,” she remarked. “Spring is really on its way. In another few weeks we should be able to start gardening.”
“I’d like to start a garden. A small one I mean, nothing like yours. Do you think you’d be able to give me some tips sometime?”
“Certainly. But first, I’d have to see your place. See what you might already have growing there.”
“Would you really? That would be just great.” All at once, Katherine was looking forward to the coming weeks.