River City

Yet another sunny day. I haven't been out yet, but intend to go out later. It's no weather for running, though: -9C, with the wind chill, -13C. 

I rode the bike today instead, while watching a Jerry Seinfeld comedy concert on Netflix, Jerry Seinfeld: 23 Hours To Kill. I'm not sure about it. His comedy has taken an almost dark turn. The new persona is an old curmudgeon who doesn't like anybody or anything. There was some of that in the TV show's character, but this is...darker. And he is old now: 65, which seems unbelievable but I guess makes sense since the TV show started in the 1980s. There is some good material, though, especially about marriage. I'd give it 3.5 stars out of 5. But it's fine stationary bike fare.

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I did get out this afternoon and it was lovely. I've really acclimatized myself to Canadian winter again, I think. It's the first time I've had to do that in several years. It makes a huge difference getting outside. I dress warmly - I hate being cold - and keep moving. Today, I never felt uncomfortable, and I was out for about 40 minutes. 

I started thinking about the word riverine as I walked, which just means 'of or relating to rivers', and how London, although we - or rather, I - rarely think of it that way, has always been a riverine community. The city was sited here because of the Thames. It's not important for transport as it once was, but it still defines the character and geography of the city, which it 'trisects' with the fork at the very centre.

Profound thoughts, I know.

Anyway, riverine communities are also defined by bridges, and we have many, although I think we hardly notice them most of the time. None is  particularly visually arresting, not in the way bridges in European and British cities often are. Still, they're there, and so is the river. So today, I took pictures of bridges. Here's a sampling.

CN Rail bridge from river path

Kensington Bridge from Forks

King Street footbridge from river path

Ridout Street Bridge from Springbank Drive

King Street footbridge from Stanley Street Bridge

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Every picture tells a story  As a writer, I was an often obsessive reviser. When I started doing digital photography 20 years ago, the revision compulsion spread to pictures, which I continually tweak. 

Related to the compulsive revising, is another compulsion, which I guess you could call curating. I save all the original files of photos I take in a monster archive, and periodically review pictures from a particular year or trip, hoping to find good images I somehow overlooked the first time. And I often do find some, usually overlooked because they appeared at a glance to be technically too flawed or too boring to bother with.

Some of my favourite images are ones I rediscovered, sometimes years later, and turned into quite presentable images. There's something about making a silk purse out of a seeming sow's ear that appeals.

Long preamble to today's image, which I dragged from the archive within the last year and turned into this:

It was taken in Montpellier, France in March 2015. Karen and I spent almost three months there that year. This is the main square, the Place de la Comédie. And that is the theatre after which it was named on the right. 

The railing just visible in the right foreground is part of a tram stop. The city invested in fabulous-looking modern trams about 20 years ago, and had them painted in pop-art designs. Here's one near where our apartment was. (Note the trompe l'oeil street art on the walls behind it - Montpellier was a visually stimulating place.)

Place de la Comédie is the city's hub, the site of festivals and open air markets. It's part of the  pedestrianized historic centre of the city. The carousel is I'm sure very popular in the summer when the city swells with tourists. On a damp day in March, not so much. You'll notice it's still open, though, and occasionally we'd see a mama or grandmère or grandpère treating their kiddies.