When I started to circle the perimeter of Leaside Library, an ancient boulder stopped me in my tracks. According to a nearby sign, this “Precambrian erratic was slowly transported to the Leaside area by a glacier more than 10,000 years ago.” I loved the rock’s dignified presence, which was like a grandfather elephant resting after centuries of geological movement.
When I looked more closely at the cracks and patterns on the erratic, I found one that looked like a giraffe. Even though I’m sure it has survived worse, I was disappointed to see dried splashes of dog pee on the boulder. Surely, no creature can truly mark something that has been here for ten thousand years.
Next, I trotted along a boot-made trail in the snow and took in Leaside Tennis Club and Traces Mane Park before ducking into the warm library.
As I was getting my bearings in the lobby, a group of pre-school kids trooped through the door in a jolly burst of noise and colourful hats. Their teachers ushered them into the program room to the right of the entrance, where a sliding door created a separate space for the duration of the program. Later, I noted the expansive south window that suffused the place with pure winter light. I also liked the clever storage area for flat cushions in primary colours. (When I was in Brownies, we called them “sit-upons” but I’m not sure if they’re called that in Canada).
The rest of Leaside’s interior was pleasingly rectangular. I loved the high windows on three sides, especially in the places where dark tree branches held steady behind the panes.
Most of the space was open plan, with the Children’s Room demarcated by a portal that contained display cabinets on either side. A bank of computers formed most of the outer barrier of the kids’ zone, with a gap serving as a second entrance before a row of shelves continued to maintain the low wall started by the computer bank.
Serving as friendly guardians of the cabinet-entrance were a collection of snowpeople. They seemed to be a sporty bunch, for they had sleds and skis in addition to relevant winter-themed literature such as Omar On Ice.
On the other side of the wall, I discovered some welcoming armchairs, a deer wearing a long stocking cap, and a delightful window seat. I was very taken by one of the display books, The Cow Who Clucked. Who says a cow has to moo all day long? Why not cluck instead?
As I continued my self-guided tour, I found the French collection and more window seats. A patron was seated on one of them with her laptop. She had set her galoshes carefully to one side and was typing in her stockinged feet.
The north window bank also had its fans, as did the local history room near the checkout desk. When I poked about inside the Leaside Room, I discovered a signed copy of Horton Hatches the Egg by Dr. Seuss and a framed example of Mayoral neck bling with lots of gold maple leaves clasped together.
Thank you, Leaside, for your distinctive boulder, contented snowmen, friendly staff, and classy decor!
yeah, who says a cow has to moo, anyway?
Thank you for the clucking cow affirmation, Dan!