Wonderstruck

Occasionally, a subtle, unintended theme begins to emerge as an issue of In The Hills comes together. This theme is not as intentional as, say, that of a summer edition that skews toward farm-fresh eating or a winter issue packed with snowy outdoor pursuits, all of which we embrace; rather, it’s a zeitgeist-y undercurrent that in its own way reflects the moment in which we find ourselves.

As article drafts started flowing in this summer, the notion of wonder kept popping up in pieces entirely unrelated to one another, each flirting with the sense of being astonished or awed by something, whether it was seen for the first time or through fresh eyes – fresh gimlet eyes in some cases.

In “Taking the Stage,” Theatre Orangeville’s artistic director, Jennifer Stewart, and executive director, Sharyn Ayliffe, told writer James Gerus they had taken to calling the theatre’s fall season “a season of wonder.” Indeed, their first mainstage play, The Wonder of It All, is a rumination on a 25-year marriage that, to its inhabitants, may feel like anything but awe-inspiring at times.

Likewise, naturalist Don Scallen worries about the future of his wonderful nature finds. He shares his bittersweet pursuit of five flora and fauna species that may soon vanish from Headwaters. “I’m struck with awe whenever I encounter them, but I’m also saddened by the knowledge that they may soon be gone,” he writes.

In a profile of nature journalling educator Billie Jo Reid, writer Janice Quirt finds the Christmas tune “I Wonder as I Wander” on repeat in her head as she watches Reid lay the groundwork for children and adults alike to find childlike wonder in local natural settings.

Finally, there is the cover of this issue: one of Peter Dušek’s fine-art photographs, mentioned in Emily Dickson’s survey of the fall art scene. Dušek’s piece is a stark, unsentimental – modern, even – rendering of a familiar touchstone in these hills: weathered barns and outbuildings. The title of the piece – “Starstruck” – is a play on the white star at the peak of each roof but also handily describes the feeling of gazing at a routine sight through a new lens.

Twenty years ago, I would have called the pileup of wonders in this edition a meme – but now this term, which once referred to a spontaneous cultural occurrence, has been co-opted to mean goofy viral videos we actively DM to one another.

Whatever you call it, noticing these threads has reminded me that there’s no better time than now – especially when more than enough dread, apathy and angst is going around – to search out slivers of wonder and to relish each and every one.