Palmerston Library, a modest-sized branch just west of Bathurst on Bloor, was a relaxing place to spend a couple of hours in the city. Numerous fellow Torontonians shared my sentiment, as the main room was filled to capacity with readers and web-surfers.

On my first visit in 2009, I noticed a lot of square angles and white paint at Palmerston, but what saved it from being overly institutional was a display of Summer Reading Club illustrations near the entrance. These pictorial book reports featured time machines, fire engines, the three little pigs, a dragon, and a “vacation under the volcano.” (Talk about an edgy holiday!)

To the left of the entrance, a wizard kite flew overhead in a floppy purple hat that was part-toque, part-nightcap. Wire-rim spectacles and a long gray beard reinforced his scholarly image, as did the tucking of his hands into drawn-on sleeves. (The wizard’s arms were no more than suggestions; they served as the kite’s side flaps). The rest of the wizard’s body was one very long purple swoosh of kite material, spanning the children’s section diagonally. I missed the wizard when I returned to the branch yesterday to take photographs, but I know he served the branch well in his time.

When it initially opened, Palmerston was a children’s library. Almost forty years later, the kids’ books are still plentiful, including lots of French ones, but I was surprised to find loose bare sofa cushions on the floor instead of window seats and other amenities common in the majority of branches I’ve visited. (I’m happy to report that a 2010 renovation improved the children’s area a lot; I noticed a big difference on my second visit).

The adult section offered lots of Korean materials and some Spanish ones. Also, a small Local History Collection displayed titles such as The Riot at Christie Pits, The Annex, and Honest Ed Mirvish: How to Build an Empire on an Orange Crate.

I couldn’t see Honest Ed‘s corny brilliance from my table near the computers, but I did enjoy the view of the back of some red brick buildings along Bloor. They reminded me of the rear view of late 19th century storefronts in my Midwestern hometown’s square.

Before I left Palmerston to meet a friend, I wanted to see the basement level which housed a meeting room and theatre. However, the door was locked, possibly because no specific events were scheduled for that day. Not overly daunted, I tucked a DVD biography of Charles Darwin into my backpack and joined the pedestrian traffic along Bloor.

Earlier in the week I paid a visit to Northern District Library. The vast main floor of this 1975 building reminded me of a university library, and to wander among its extensive shelves took a pleasingly long time. An hour passed before I realized I’d better wrap up my notes and go fetch some salad for dinner.

The grid pattern of the main level’s white ceiling looked like an upside-down waffle. The flat lights were the waffle’s indentations and the beams which framed the light-grids were the raised ridges. As I walked under the pale waffle, I passed big leather couches near the entrance and headed over to the large Children’s Area in the southeast corner. Reading benches were placed near the tall windows, creating handy places to perch when the call to read struck. I liked the inclusive display of books propped on top of a non-fiction shelf: Goddesses, Heroes and Shamans, Sikhism, and Many Ways: How Families Practice Their Beliefs and Religions.

I was also impressed by a large piece of functional art in the Children’s Area. Titled “Appleapes” and made of wood, it featured a red border that framed an apple tree and five apple-loving apes. The apple tree was on the left side and hosted a woodpecker on its trunk. A big mama ape occupied the majority of the composition, filling the lower middle and right portions. Clutching an apple in the digits of each lower limb, she also had a row of coat pegs and hooks integrated into her body. Above the mama primate were four babies hanging from the red wooden border overhead. They, too, had apples in their clutches.

As I meandered through the rest of the library, I marvelled at the size of the foreign language collections: French, Serbian, Chinese, and Estonian. There used to be a Japanese collection as well, but a notice advised that it had been moved to North York Library. ESL and Literacy materials abounded, and a North Toronto Local History Section was available for researchers to dig into.

The Skylight Gallery upstairs consisted of a semi-circular stretch of wall that curved underneath (surprise!) a grand skylight. Nothing was on display when I visited except one piece near the washrooms. I had some difficulty making out the artist’s name painted in the bottom right corner, but it looked like Tom Lane. With a distinctively tactile appeal, the large canvas was covered in tinted tree bark, and its three-dimensionality was enhanced by protruding mushrooms. Refraining from touching the bark, I trotted back down the stairs and emerged into the afternoon busyness of Yonge and Eglinton.