From on high, the green foliage was evidence that there was life, reinforced by the wind, which gave the treetops a waving motion, as if to say, "Look up here. We're alive!"
At eye level, barriers of fallen trunks, minute, dry, lifeless branches held firm and said, "You shall not pass!!"
Even in daylight, on this part of the Bruce Trail, at Lion's Head, on the Bruce Peninsula, the woods evoked a touch of fear. I was alone, having just driven the seven-and-a-half hours from Ottawa, killing time until my family would meet with me, and I decided to take a walk.
This view told me that I didn't want to go too far.
But the rest of the peninsula was more than welcoming. I'll share more next week.
There's nothing like being out at night, on a deserted road, out of sight, under an overpass, alone, vulnerable, that makes the tiny hai...