Cooler today here with light rain. Good day for a walk. No snakes observed so far.
Actually, come to think of it, I don't think I've even seen a snake in Toronto. They must exist in the wilder parts of Toronto - we have a conservation area jutting out into Lake Ontario created entirely by dumping clean fill into the Lake - still in the process of being expanded as foundations are being dug for various office and condo buildings. It's now a managed conservation area, with the slightly unusual feature of attracting a constant flow of heavy dump trucks during the work week. Hence the signs on the main road: Please Brake for Snakes.
My brother was a snaky sort of boy. He was on a hike with my dad one time when he spotted a snake. He pounced and picked it up, the better to identify it. It rattled at him, which was all the confirmation he needed.
Also on the same mountain (Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County - not a big mountain, but our own) we were walking on a paved trail very near the summit. I spotted a snake and backed off to watch it. This one was a king snake - very safe. As the snake very leisurely slithered across the trail, other hikers came up behind us. I heard one woman say something like "oh, look. It must be tame." I controlled my tongue.
Two weeks ago it snew here. Today it has reached, so far, 30°, and anything that can bite has already bitten me. This is preposterous and quite unnecessary in May. Something Ought To Be Done About It.
So Torstar has been sold to a private equity firm, and with it, the Toronto Star. Hopefully not the end of an era - I'm not an admirer of everything the Star has ever published, but overall I think they've been a force for good in Canadian journalism.
I think there's me, though I moved away 20 years ago in my early 30s, plus Meg The Red, who I don't think made the leap to the new Ship. Don't know of anyone else, at least not among the regular posters.
N.B. had its first Covid-19 death this morning. Our CMOH set deaths would be inevitable. This became true when the virus eneterd a long-term care home.
Sorry to hear that, Caissa - I thought you'd done so well to manage the outbreak. Was it in the same area as the bloke who went over into Quebec and then came back without self-isolating and they had to lock it down again?
So, in the wake of monumental removals (see what I did there?), Dundas Street in Toronto and beyond is now a candidate for renaming, as it was named after Henry Dundas, Viscount Melville, who goes down in history as an opponent of the abolition of slavery. This isn't quite true - he recognised the evil of the slave trade, but, in opposition to Wilberforce, took a gradualist approach, prolonging the evil he (claimed to have ) recognised. A very important thoroughfare is different from a statue in that the former is functional, and changing the name presents certain practical problems, especially because it passes through a Chinatown and somewhat less a problem passing through Little Portugal. Do we also change the name of the town of Dundas? Removing the statue of Cornwallis in Halifax presents no such practical consideration, and Cornwallis was a bastard (bounties on Mi'kmaq in the 1750s, which, while entirely ineffectual, were no less morally reprehensible), who complicated history by having established a number of institutional "firsts" in British North America or in what would become Canada.
Dundas Street wasn't an issue until this week, which has a slightly band wagonish aroma to it. If it is to be renamed, I would hope that it wouldn't be something patently artificial, strident, or anodyne. I think that all the good historical names relating to Toronto have been taken, especially for such an important artery. Tall order. The only renaming of a similarly important artery that I can think of is the naming of Dorchester Boulevard as Boulevard Réné-Lévesque. Renaming streets, squares, etc., is not really done here. Thoughts? Suggestions for a new name? Banting/Best/McLeod (the last to get something, having been passed over for the Nobel)? Gould? Thomson? Brant? (There is a Brant Street, but quite minor.)
[I realise that the hosts might want the shunt this over to Purg. As you wish.]
The thing about Dundas Street (and now the city of Vaughan, apparently) is that I don’t think anyone knew or cared who they were named after until maybe last week. Dundas Street to my mind will always be more associated with Chinatown than anything else.
Toronto has a policy of not naming streets after living people, so no Margaret Atwood (yet, anyway). It’s also not just a Toronto street - I don’t remember if it actually goes all the way to Dundas, but it does go through both Missisauga and Oakville. Apparently Dundas is also a place name in Scotland and somebody on Facebook suggested we keep the name and change the namesake. That would greatly simplify matters I think.
Actually, the town takes its name from the Road. I forget what the town was called before.... Something Paradise, I think. And you're right: (1) no living people are honoured in Toronto (take that as you will), hence the askance looks at the naming of Mel Lastman Square (which, at the time, was not in Toronto); (2) renaming the street could cause some jurisdictional problems; (3) there is a Dundas Castle in Scotland, near Edinburgh. Perhaps we could say that Dundas stands for Damned Unhappy Nuisance During Arguments about Statuary.
There's a Dundas Crescent just down the road from where I grew up in Orkney, and it's one of the most desirable addresses in the county (think lovely big Scottish Baronial style houses). I've heard murmurings about re-naming it in the last week or two; whether they will or not I really don't know.
Hmm. I suppose we may have a problem if the new namesake gets renamed...
I’m not sure how much energy there really is in the push to rename. The mayor’s response seems to be along the lines of “we’ll consider it if people really feel strongly about it” rather than “yes we’ll put the wheels in motion tomorrow.” Personally, I think it’s a lot of hassle for negligible gain, given that I seriously doubt that 99.9% of Toronto’s population had any clue who the street was named after prior to last week.
The difficulty if it does get re-named would be finding an appropriate street name that’s not already in use in any jurisdiction where the re-naming is going to happen - or anyway, a street name whose current owners are willing to part with. I thought Alexander Street might be a good idea (honouring some fairly noncontentious figures such as Viscount Alexander and Lincoln Alexander) but I know it is already in use in Toronto and I’m not sure its current owners would be that happy to part with it.
If we do re-name it I suggest we look for a name that could be seen as honouring more than one person so we don’t have to rename it again if some future historian discovers unpleasant facts about the honouree...
john holdingEcclesiantics Host, Mystery Worshipper Host
I understand that some mischievous person has pointed out that the venerated first nations leader Joseph Brant was a slave-owner. Statue...town of Brantford... what to do, what to do...
Incidentally, there is already a Gould street in Toronto - near Yonge and Dundas and the former location of Sam the Record Man. I doubt it was named after Glenn Gould but its proximity to Sam’s made the name more than appropriate.
I wondered if that was it. Coote’s paradise still exists as a park around an inlet in Lake Ontario - a nature preserve operated by the Royal Botanical Gardens (whose main properties are in the same general area).
They are very attached to their swamps around here, Cootes Paradise being well known. To get there from here you cross what was once known as the Great Beverley Swamp. But now they are heritage wetlands and things like that instead of the disease-ridden fever swamps that they used to be.
I wonder how many people know who Henry Dundas was? To get to his street, we'd drive down Victoria (notorious colonialist) Avenue and probably Elgin (had a problem with other people's marbles) Street. A lot more troublesome was Swastika Trail, which kept its name after a lot of court time and lawyer money. Then, there's the enigmatic Calfass Road a little farther away - anyone care to try parsing that one? You could make a career out of changing street names, but I have a feeling there are more important things to do once the worst ones have been weeded out.
The Wikipedia article on Dundas Street indicates that its other principal historical name was Governor's Road. That has the advantage of not being anyone's name, but somehow it doesn't seem quite right for urban Toronto in 2020.
The street actually has a fascinating history, as the article describes. It actually began around the area of Dundas (Cootes Paradise, as it then was) and slowly moved east. Most of what urban Torontonians think of Dundas Street is a later patchwork made up of stringing together a number of minor streets, doubtless often with unfortunate effects on the neighborhood. Dundas Street East (between Broadview and Kingston Road) is the latest addition, and you can see remnants of its predecessor streets if you know where to look. (It's a great street for cyclists, because it has bike lanes and no streetcar tracks - the Dundas car turns north on to Broadview at what used to be Dundas Street's eastern terminus.)
The issue with Dundas St. is that is the general name for Highway 5, going all the way to Brantford. Just as Highway 2 is Kingston Road. It runs theough so many communities with that name.
The issue with Dundas St. is that is the general name for Highway 5, going all the way to Brantford. Just as Highway 2 is Kingston Road. It runs theough so many communities with that name.
It's a bit more complicated than that. Dundas takes a turn to the north-west at Peter's Corners and becomes Highway 8, heading up to Cambridge and Kitchener, losing its name at the Delta in Galt. Highway 5 carries on until it becomes Beverley Street and then fizzles out just past St George, not quite making it to Brantford. Highway 2 seems to assume the Dundas name in Woodstock and then loses it in London.
It's a nice day, so I may take a drive over there to check on it for myself. In fact, in a couple of hours I could drive though Oxford, Cambridge, Stratford (via Punkeydoodles Corners), London and Paris, not to mention Orkney, Kirkwall, Iona, and even Kintore. I am sure other shipmates are following this with bated breath.
Presumably named after the now long-forgotten Punkeydoodles-Corners-upon-Avon, home of Punkeydoodle's Theatre, where Shakespeare would try out his plays on new audiences before taking them to the big cities...
Punkydoodle's Theatre, home of the off-off-off High Street Stratford productions. It was there that Guildenstern, Dogsbody of Denmark was workshopped. Will tinkered with it. It was also there that Osric coined his signature comic line, "Take my liege - please."
The issue with Dundas St. is that is the general name for Highway 5, going all the way to Brantford. Just as Highway 2 is Kingston Road. It runs theough so many communities with that name.
It's a bit more complicated than that. Dundas takes a turn to the north-west at Peter's Corners and becomes Highway 8, heading up to Cambridge and Kitchener, losing its name at the Delta in Galt. Highway 5 carries on until it becomes Beverley Street and then fizzles out just past St George, not quite making it to Brantford. Highway 2 seems to assume the Dundas name in Woodstock and then loses it in London.
It's a nice day, so I may take a drive over there to check on it for myself. In fact, in a couple of hours I could drive though Oxford, Cambridge, Stratford (via Punkeydoodles Corners), London and Paris, not to mention Orkney, Kirkwall, Iona, and even Kintore. I am sure other shipmates are following this with bated breath.
I am. These are all well known and travelled place names of my youth, to which I am continually recalled from far corners of the planet by family circumstances.
I'm feeling somewhat bittersweet about them as you rhyme them off because I am about to set sail from Canada's shores with the intention to remain abroad, and I'm deeply absorbing the colors and smells of the Carolinian forest in what I intend to be my final Canadian spring.
It's funny. we never know when is the last time we will ever set eyes on a place or on an indvidual, and we often regret when we are not given a chance for a proper farewell. I can never be certain if my life might bring me back here again, but I'm deep in the throes of appreciation for the shores of the inland oceans that I grew up on, and for the communities that cluster among them.
AFF - it was good to read your post. I didn't grow up here, and I've never felt at home here - no mountains on one side and salt water on the other, and the Scottishness (inherited and adopted, in my case) of some places isn't enough to help. My wife has moved just as much as I have, and has the gift of making her home wherever she goes - she is both lucky and sensible. We are just on the edge of a remnant of the Carolinian Forest, and you are right - it's the only perfume I really love (better even than steam locomotives!) The smell of the baked pine needles under foot in the summer is heavenly.
AFF - it was good to read your post. I didn't grow up here, and I've never felt at home here - no mountains on one side and salt water on the other, and the Scottishness (inherited and adopted, in my case) of some places isn't enough to help. My wife has moved just as much as I have, and has the gift of making her home wherever she goes - she is both lucky and sensible. We are just on the edge of a remnant of the Carolinian Forest, and you are right - it's the only perfume I really love (better even than steam locomotives!) The smell of the baked pine needles under foot in the summer is heavenly.
It was when I returned to Ontario after fifteen years in the States, about eleven years ago, that I was able to shift my perspective on the landscape, and strangely enough, it was a Serbian immigrant landscape artist in St Jacobs who caused me to shift my point of view.
Growing up among the fields of crops and livestock, I always saw the terrain as acres of cleared productive farmland bordered by small stands of bush. Upon my return, and after seeing the light in a new way through this painterly shift of POV, I was able to see the landscape for what is is in fact: a GIGANTIC forest that stretches across the lakes, upwards from the Carolinas, out of which we have carved our living spaces.
When that shift took place, my entire experience of the area underwent a profound change, and I was able at last to overcome many early life negative associations with the land.
There will forever be a part of me standing on the shore of Lake Huron on that strange outcropping of limestone and shale, known as Kettle Point, with its spherical stones growing out of the lake bed and the warm scent of the pine forest at my back. I will take that with me everywhere I roam, into whatever dimensions I pass.
Poetic take, on the cusp of exile, AFF. (Well, I exaggerate about exile.) I identify strongly with what you and ST have written. I'm from about 800+ km north of Toronto (where I've lived longer than anywhere), and to go north, especially in winter, is harsh bliss. As much as I love Toronto, the north will ever be a part of me, and to be there is to rediscover a bit of my missing self.
It's funny. we never know when is the last time we will ever set eyes on a place or on an indvidual, and we often regret when we are not given a chance for a proper farewell.
I spent substantial parts of many summers as a child at a cottage in northern Manitoba that belonged (still belongs) to my mother's family. The last time I was up there was when I was 15, now quite a long time ago, and odds are strongly against my ever setting foot in that part of the world again. I don't think I assumed we would necessarily be coming back when I left for the last time, but if I'd known it wasn't going to happen I'm sure I would have given the place a longer look on the way out.
I found your post very poignant too, AFF - when I left Fredericton in February, I really had no idea if I'd ever be back, or see any of my friends there again. I still have no idea: it'll depend on whether I can ever afford to do it. It's a depressing thought, but one I'll just have to live with.
eta: as it was 35° in Freddy yesterday, I'll be very careful about what time of year I go back, if I ever do!
Much to my shame, I was born in Toronto. The birth was a product of the times. My parents, two Saint Johners, moved to Toronto for employment opportunities. We returned to Saint John, NB in 1971. In 1985, I returned to Ontario for 8 years of grad school, living in Ottawa, London and Toronto. Although these eight years were formative and I would not trade them in for anything, I felt like a cultural exile in Eastern and Southern Ontario. I returned to my home province (New Brunswick) in 1993 and enjoy the peace of knowing I am home.
I was also a somewhat improbable Toronto birth - my parents were working in Toronto for a few years after finishing university in their home province (Manitoba), and were about to leave Toronto when I was born. Unlike your parents though they moved to Ottawa, and I've spent most of my life living in these two cities.
Our birthplaces are indeed not our fault. Those of a certain age will possibly recall a Québec flag-burning incident in Brockville, Ontario, from back in the 1980s IIRC, likely undertaken by the local neanderthals. This was replayed on French TV 5,345,612 times as evidence of how English Canada despised and rejected Québec. I was born there some years ago and so, when I was federal booth bimbo at academic conferences and interlocutors generously praised my French, assuming I was an anglo-Québéois, I was always able to cheerfully note that I was from Ontario and born in Brockville. To be even more mischievous, I would drop from my correct formal French into a demotic “Chui né à Brockville, moi," in a manner more reflective of a truck-driver from the east end of town.
*trivia note; Orange Lodge of Canada co-founder and local legislator Ogle R Gowan once held the British Empire record for expulsion from the assembly for corrupt electoral practices*
I had ratcheted my walking routine up to 8/km day but we are now in the 3d day of a heat warning (32°C and rising) and public pools are still closed, so I will have to wait until about 9 or 10 pm to see if I can get some exercise. The terraces of the bars and cafés are now open and socially distanced, but are not much populated. The parks feature small groups of people laying about in the shade, breathing enough to stay alive. My neighbour has wrapped freezer packs in towels for her cats' lounging comfort. I may try this.
I remember the Brockville flag incident - it had to do with Bill 8 and bilingual services, as I recall... (I had to check my recollection online, but I am a little surprised at actually remembering the bill number 35 years later...)
I’ve only been to Brockville once, as a choirboy. We sang the morning service and were supposed to sing Evensong as well but I was getting a ride with another choir family (my parents must have been otherwise occupied that Sunday) and for whatever reason they decided not to stay so we went back to Ottawa early. Is there actually any French spoken there?
We have the same heat warning as well so I am taking shelter inside on the sofa with the cat and reading Edith Wharton. I did get out on my bike and made way way down to the lake yesterday. A bit cooler down by the lake, but not really a lot cooler.
john holdingEcclesiantics Host, Mystery Worshipper Host
The parks feature small groups of people laying about in the shade, breathing enough to stay alive.
I am appalled, appalled I tell you, to see even you Augustine succumbing to the demotic use of lay instead of lie. At least, I hope these people were not engaging in public sex in the shade rather than simply lying in the shade.
I wouldn't claim intimate acquaintance with Brockville, bit in my experience it was (last I was there was 25 years ago) one of the WASPiest places I've ever been, certainly for its size. Pas de français, là.
Comments
Actually, come to think of it, I don't think I've even seen a snake in Toronto. They must exist in the wilder parts of Toronto - we have a conservation area jutting out into Lake Ontario created entirely by dumping clean fill into the Lake - still in the process of being expanded as foundations are being dug for various office and condo buildings. It's now a managed conservation area, with the slightly unusual feature of attracting a constant flow of heavy dump trucks during the work week. Hence the signs on the main road: Please Brake for Snakes.
* apart from a total inability to afford it, obviously ...
https://themanatee.net/first-to-reopen-its-economy-new-brunswick-begins-sending-transfer-payments-to-hard-hit-alberta/
Also on the same mountain (Mt. Tamalpais in Marin County - not a big mountain, but our own) we were walking on a paved trail very near the summit. I spotted a snake and backed off to watch it. This one was a king snake - very safe. As the snake very leisurely slithered across the trail, other hikers came up behind us. I heard one woman say something like "oh, look. It must be tame." I controlled my tongue.
An excellent T-shirt slogan.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/new-brunswick/health-care-worker-border-campbellton-covid-19-cases-1.5588168
I think there's me, though I moved away 20 years ago in my early 30s, plus Meg The Red, who I don't think made the leap to the new Ship. Don't know of anyone else, at least not among the regular posters.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/new-brunswick/covid-19-death-long-term-care-home-campbellton-1.5597992
RIP Mr. Ouellette.
Strikes home, because I used to live in Campbellton. Fool of a doctor.
Dundas Street wasn't an issue until this week, which has a slightly band wagonish aroma to it. If it is to be renamed, I would hope that it wouldn't be something patently artificial, strident, or anodyne. I think that all the good historical names relating to Toronto have been taken, especially for such an important artery. Tall order. The only renaming of a similarly important artery that I can think of is the naming of Dorchester Boulevard as Boulevard Réné-Lévesque. Renaming streets, squares, etc., is not really done here. Thoughts? Suggestions for a new name? Banting/Best/McLeod (the last to get something, having been passed over for the Nobel)? Gould? Thomson? Brant? (There is a Brant Street, but quite minor.)
[I realise that the hosts might want the shunt this over to Purg. As you wish.]
Toronto has a policy of not naming streets after living people, so no Margaret Atwood (yet, anyway). It’s also not just a Toronto street - I don’t remember if it actually goes all the way to Dundas, but it does go through both Missisauga and Oakville. Apparently Dundas is also a place name in Scotland and somebody on Facebook suggested we keep the name and change the namesake. That would greatly simplify matters I think.
I’m not sure how much energy there really is in the push to rename. The mayor’s response seems to be along the lines of “we’ll consider it if people really feel strongly about it” rather than “yes we’ll put the wheels in motion tomorrow.” Personally, I think it’s a lot of hassle for negligible gain, given that I seriously doubt that 99.9% of Toronto’s population had any clue who the street was named after prior to last week.
The difficulty if it does get re-named would be finding an appropriate street name that’s not already in use in any jurisdiction where the re-naming is going to happen - or anyway, a street name whose current owners are willing to part with. I thought Alexander Street might be a good idea (honouring some fairly noncontentious figures such as Viscount Alexander and Lincoln Alexander) but I know it is already in use in Toronto and I’m not sure its current owners would be that happy to part with it.
If we do re-name it I suggest we look for a name that could be seen as honouring more than one person so we don’t have to rename it again if some future historian discovers unpleasant facts about the honouree...
I wonder how many people know who Henry Dundas was? To get to his street, we'd drive down Victoria (notorious colonialist) Avenue and probably Elgin (had a problem with other people's marbles) Street. A lot more troublesome was Swastika Trail, which kept its name after a lot of court time and lawyer money. Then, there's the enigmatic Calfass Road a little farther away - anyone care to try parsing that one? You could make a career out of changing street names, but I have a feeling there are more important things to do once the worst ones have been weeded out.
The street actually has a fascinating history, as the article describes. It actually began around the area of Dundas (Cootes Paradise, as it then was) and slowly moved east. Most of what urban Torontonians think of Dundas Street is a later patchwork made up of stringing together a number of minor streets, doubtless often with unfortunate effects on the neighborhood. Dundas Street East (between Broadview and Kingston Road) is the latest addition, and you can see remnants of its predecessor streets if you know where to look. (It's a great street for cyclists, because it has bike lanes and no streetcar tracks - the Dundas car turns north on to Broadview at what used to be Dundas Street's eastern terminus.)
It's a bit more complicated than that. Dundas takes a turn to the north-west at Peter's Corners and becomes Highway 8, heading up to Cambridge and Kitchener, losing its name at the Delta in Galt. Highway 5 carries on until it becomes Beverley Street and then fizzles out just past St George, not quite making it to Brantford. Highway 2 seems to assume the Dundas name in Woodstock and then loses it in London.
It's a nice day, so I may take a drive over there to check on it for myself. In fact, in a couple of hours I could drive though Oxford, Cambridge, Stratford (via Punkeydoodles Corners), London and Paris, not to mention Orkney, Kirkwall, Iona, and even Kintore. I am sure other shipmates are following this with bated breath.
Presumably named after the now long-forgotten Punkeydoodles-Corners-upon-Avon, home of Punkeydoodle's Theatre, where Shakespeare would try out his plays on new audiences before taking them to the big cities...
Indeed!
I am. These are all well known and travelled place names of my youth, to which I am continually recalled from far corners of the planet by family circumstances.
I'm feeling somewhat bittersweet about them as you rhyme them off because I am about to set sail from Canada's shores with the intention to remain abroad, and I'm deeply absorbing the colors and smells of the Carolinian forest in what I intend to be my final Canadian spring.
It's funny. we never know when is the last time we will ever set eyes on a place or on an indvidual, and we often regret when we are not given a chance for a proper farewell. I can never be certain if my life might bring me back here again, but I'm deep in the throes of appreciation for the shores of the inland oceans that I grew up on, and for the communities that cluster among them.
It was when I returned to Ontario after fifteen years in the States, about eleven years ago, that I was able to shift my perspective on the landscape, and strangely enough, it was a Serbian immigrant landscape artist in St Jacobs who caused me to shift my point of view.
Growing up among the fields of crops and livestock, I always saw the terrain as acres of cleared productive farmland bordered by small stands of bush. Upon my return, and after seeing the light in a new way through this painterly shift of POV, I was able to see the landscape for what is is in fact: a GIGANTIC forest that stretches across the lakes, upwards from the Carolinas, out of which we have carved our living spaces.
When that shift took place, my entire experience of the area underwent a profound change, and I was able at last to overcome many early life negative associations with the land.
There will forever be a part of me standing on the shore of Lake Huron on that strange outcropping of limestone and shale, known as Kettle Point, with its spherical stones growing out of the lake bed and the warm scent of the pine forest at my back. I will take that with me everywhere I roam, into whatever dimensions I pass.
I spent substantial parts of many summers as a child at a cottage in northern Manitoba that belonged (still belongs) to my mother's family. The last time I was up there was when I was 15, now quite a long time ago, and odds are strongly against my ever setting foot in that part of the world again. I don't think I assumed we would necessarily be coming back when I left for the last time, but if I'd known it wasn't going to happen I'm sure I would have given the place a longer look on the way out.
eta: as it was 35° in Freddy yesterday, I'll be very careful about what time of year I go back, if I ever do!
It's not exactly your fault ...
*trivia note; Orange Lodge of Canada co-founder and local legislator Ogle R Gowan once held the British Empire record for expulsion from the assembly for corrupt electoral practices*
I had ratcheted my walking routine up to 8/km day but we are now in the 3d day of a heat warning (32°C and rising) and public pools are still closed, so I will have to wait until about 9 or 10 pm to see if I can get some exercise. The terraces of the bars and cafés are now open and socially distanced, but are not much populated. The parks feature small groups of people laying about in the shade, breathing enough to stay alive. My neighbour has wrapped freezer packs in towels for her cats' lounging comfort. I may try this.
I’ve only been to Brockville once, as a choirboy. We sang the morning service and were supposed to sing Evensong as well but I was getting a ride with another choir family (my parents must have been otherwise occupied that Sunday) and for whatever reason they decided not to stay so we went back to Ottawa early. Is there actually any French spoken there?
We have the same heat warning as well so I am taking shelter inside on the sofa with the cat and reading Edith Wharton. I did get out on my bike and made way way down to the lake yesterday. A bit cooler down by the lake, but not really a lot cooler.
I am appalled, appalled I tell you, to see even you Augustine succumbing to the demotic use of lay instead of lie. At least, I hope these people were not engaging in public sex in the shade rather than simply lying in the shade.