Sheppard Avenue Agincourt underpass
This is the other bridge, only very recently at bridge at all, I've been keeping an eye on over the past couple of years. This is, or was, the GO Train level crossing on Sheppard Avenue in Agincourt, between Kennedy Road to the west and Midland Avenue to the east. It's not a part of town I got to with great frequency... the Walmart on the west side of Sheppard and Kennedy, just shy of the crossing, is about as far as I typically go. But since I realized they'd finally be building the underpass, I've been photographing the progress there. This summer it's nearly completion, and in a month or two, I think, the four lanes will be open under the bridge, and all of this will just be a memory.
Funny how some of the dates line up with milestones. June 11, 2011 was just after I took possession, and was in the month-long process of moving home. October 30 was just after Twinkle died. And July 31, just over a month ago, was within a day or two of when I first noticed Max wasn't enthusiastic about breakfast anymore. Yeah, watching this bridge emerge from the ground has been the background hum of a lot of change.
July 10, 2010
December 25, 2010
April 22, 2011
June 11, 2011
October 30, 2011
January 22, 2012
May 6, 2012
July 28, 2012
3 comments:
I'm intrigued by your long-term project of preserving for posterity the disappearing bridges and roads in and around Toronto. Many of the pictures simply record the scene, the bridge in its setting, however gritty or grim that scene may be with traffic and power lines, or in whatever stage the transformation with its clutter of equipment, piles of dirt and gravel, the land scraped raw. There's a just-the-facts-ma'am quality about those shots--not pretty, but there it is--in contrast to the sense of loss and nostalgia in the comment about this bridge. Moreover, many of your pictures taken in rural areas reveal the artistic bent seen in your writing. The bridge or road is there in its setting, but the composition of the shot is satisfying to the eye and the scene evokes strong emotion--sometimes of isolation and even desolation, sometimes of the peace one feels when comfortably alone.
Hurricane Hazel is a strong childhood memory for me--the frightful sound of it, and the devastation when we ventured outside the day after. A mulberry tree we played under, old even then, was split in half, somehow survived the injury, and was still standing this summer.
Memories of Bailey bridges as well, replacing bridges destroyed by a major storm in the early seventies. One near my old stomping grounds was installed about twenty years ago after a guy whumped the earlier bridge with his snowplow. The Bailey was laid in the structure of the old bridge--the town couldn't afford a completely new bridge--but when chunks of the old structure began falling into the river, they began looking for the money. A new bridge went in a couple of years ago. At that point the Bailey bridge was still there, angling off from the new one but closed to traffic. There is a certain sadness in the passing of the familiar into the past.
How I dearly wish you had a blog. :)
It's a matter of choosing a theme. When you're older than dirt but still young enough to have responsibilities to discharge, you have a prodigious selection of themes to choose from but not enough time to both engage in and write about all of them.
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