Yesterday was a gorgeous fall day here in Southwestern Ontario. We’ve been experiencing unseasonably warm days in the high 20s (low 80s for my American friends) and I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and take a walk in the bush (walk in the woods).
Mike owns property in a village about 30 mins West of the city where I live and I was heading out there to pick something up for him so I decided to check out a small Conservation Area near there. I love walking in local Conservation Areas. The paths are usually well kept and they’re never very far from the nearest community.
I drove out the woodlot at the end of a dirt road (my white van isn’t very white anymore). Right away I noticed this Conservation Area was much smaller than the one I usually walk, but I saw a couple paths heading off the main trail and decided to plunge in.
I was sorely disappointed. Each of the paths led to a dead end after about 4 minutes of walking. I sighed in frustration. I had psyched myself for a great adventure and it was snuffed out before it had begun.
Then something magical happened. It was noon time so the sun was high in the sky and filtering through the trees. The breeze picked up. The towering ashes swayed and the air was filled with hundreds of floating yellowed leaves. Each leaf floated gently to the ground, like an elegant dancer on the wind.
And in that moment I was at peace. What a glorious feeling.