Again with the apologies... I find that I can spend ridiculous amounts of time in front of the computer but can't always bring myself to stick around when it comes time to write in here. Maybe it's 'cause it's cold around my computer. Maybe it's 'cause I'm lazy. Meh.
The world presents us with only what we can process. No. The world presents us with everything. We choose what to process and how to process it. Whether we wear rose-coloured glasses or walk a mile in someone elses shoes, how we perceive the world is entirely dependent on our state of mind and the capability of that mind to interpret what it senses. I believe that the world is much more than we perceive in our little human pea-brains. I also think that every once-in-a-while we get a glimpse into a part of the world that we haven't experienced before but are usually so set in our own reality to understand it. It is this belief that brings me to the snow pickle. I mean, what other explanation is there for a pickle, pleasantly iced, presumably crunchy and definitely green, sitting on the sidewalk in the midst of my walk to work? I, for one, believe that Bicks Canada was trying to do us all a service by educating us and sharing with us a different reality through their recent series of ads. I believe that the poor frozen creature that I saw on the sidewalk was a pickle that yearned for freedom, for a life outside of its jar. Success was in its grasp. Its inability to check weather reports and lack of understanding of Canadian winters alas, were its downfall. And so the pickle ended its short life on the sidewalk with its last crunch not being between our teeth, but rather underfoot on a blustery January day.
It didn't need to be that way. The world presented another glimpse into other life. This glimpse leads me to believe that the snow pickle may have had support. You see, I had occasion to witness the common fire hydrant in its natural environment. While ostensibly a tool for our protection, this particular hydrant inadvertently shared a secret. As the light shone with the rising sun, my walk allowed me to witness the hydrant wearing a hat. Knit, and not unlike a toque (commonly worn by Canadian humans in winter - save for those of us too vain to mess up our hair), this hydrant's headgear let me know that it too felt the cold of winter. I realized that it too was in the process of escaping. Unlike its crunchy green friend, the hydrant had a good chance of surviving as it knew the conditions to expect and dressed appropriately. I can only believe that it is far from Kingston now. Perhaps it has joined the ranks of the few, the proud, the train-travelling hobos. It may be far from here now, but I will always remember it, and thank it, for helping me see outside of my life and my experience (and for reminding me that if I don't want to be green and crunchy, I had better not forget my hat).