Usually, my walking spot is the Sifton Bog. But, as development around the bog increases, I’m becoming more and more frustrated. Between the off leash dogs, the garbage, the noise, the secret deer culls, the vandalism, and the touristy feel, it may be time for me to end my relationship with the bog. Instead, I went to Komoka Provincial Park, only about 10 minutes out of town. the dog was with me.

I’d never been to these woods before, so I thought. When I enter a new area, I introduce myself, recite my paternal lineage (my maternal lineage is murky) and state my intentions. It’s not uncommon to be made feel unwelcome, just for being human. But, about half way through my lineage, I felt “yes, we know who you are” followed by a feeling of welcoming.

I set on my hike. There were a few other people whom I passed, all joggers. The path was really rooty! I could barely navigate a walk, never mind a run!

At one point, I swore I saw something moving beside a log, something biggish. I crept in closer, but tripped on a root. When I recovered, it was gone. A woodland sprite? Maybe.

When I went to exit the woods, I saw a map. it turns out that the other side of the woods is actually the camp I went to as a child, my favourite and safest place in the world. No wonder the spirits knew me.

Caroline Weasley

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