As I walk through the old neighbourhood of Wolseley, ancient homes and leafless trees surround me. With the sun beginning to set, I am captured by the beauty of nature that we sometimes forget to acknowledge.
Glancing around me I see tall, dark trees with branches going in every direction. The colorful sky in the background gives them a strong, bold look.
As I come closer to the trunk of a tree, I touch it and feel the rough, dry texture. Backing away from the tree, I hear the fallen leaves that surround it crunching, and soon I feel the cold, hard ground beneath my feet.
As I continue my walk towards the park, I take a deep breath and notice the smell of fresh bread coming from the local bakery; the thought of it reminds me of my grandmother’s homemade bread that she used to make. My mouth begins to water and suddenly I feel hungry and think of what I should make for supper.
In the distance I can see Vimy Ridge Park, with maybe one or two people in sight. The park gives off a lonely feeling, considering in the summer it is usually full of families and animals. This makes me think of the cold, heartless winter that lies ahead, and I find myself appreciating my walk much more.
The autumn breeze muffles the distant sounds from the Portage Avenue traffic; I inhale the cool, crisp air, taking in as much as I can. The sky is getting darker now. As I gaze at the sky I feel as though I am getting lost in the clouds, and before I know it I have reached home.