Light rain and the crunch of leaves compete to be heard. Brown boots with lilac laces take careful steps through fallen maple leaves, shiny with water: red, orange, burgundy, pale yellow, and brown.
Something about this feels good. It feels good to walk through the leaves, on land traditionally tended to be the Algonquin. Even in the rain, it feels right.
Looking across Canisbay Lake in the traditional territory of the Algonquin people, you can see layers of trees: each layer shrouded in more fog than the previous. Grey clouds reflect on the ripping surface of the water, dappled by water dripping off the pine trees on the shore. The rain makes a pitter-patter sound on the lake, but the water off the trees makes a hollow plonk.
Off in the distance, you smile to hear the faint noises of a group of friends daring each other to wade into the water. Here on the shore, it’s chilly but not too cold. You’re happy to be here- and dry.
Alongside the Lake of Two Rivers, the shore is lined with rocks carved by ancient glaciers. Scraggly trees cling to rocky cliffsides lined with moss, soaked through with rain. Just behind you is the rush of the lake, low waves breaking on the shore. The moss is lush and green, laced with dried stems from cedar trees. Listen carefully to water filtered through moss, the slow plink of cold water onto old stone.
Something about this stone and these sounds mesmerized me, while standing in the traditional and unceded territory of the Algonquin people.
Here in the trees lining Canisbay Lake in the traditional lands of the Algonquin people, cool rain falls quietly on pine and fir trees. Birds sing softly around you.
You crouch down to examine a patch of light brown mushrooms, growing staggered on a mossy stump. Just beyond the stump is a low cliff overlooking the lake, dappled with rainfall. The ground squishes beneath your feet as you stand slowly, taking in the length of green trees and grey skies. The rain is peaceful.
Put on your floral sneakers and black leggings and take a walk by the lakeshore. Take a deep, slow, inhale: feel the summer air fill your lungs. It smells faintly of the lake: fresh and green at the same time. Birdsong echoes sweetly in your ear. With every carefully placed step, sandy pebbles crunch beneath your feet. They’ve been worn smooth by the water that laps alongside your footprints, cool and clear. Let the water smooth the furrows between your brow, relax your jaw, lower your shoulders, and breathe slow and even.
70 years ago, this land did not exist. It was three kilometers into Oniatarí:io (Iroquois), the lake of shining waters. The water does sparkle in the sunshine.
Look up towards the sky- the sun blinks through wide green leaves, with blue skies visible just beyond the canopy. You turn slowly, feeling the warmth of sunlight flickering over your face. A creek runs behind you while birds sing above.
I do not remember where this video was taken, but odds are good these trees grow in land nurtured by the Anishnaabe peoples.
Looking up the rocky walls of the shallow valley, you find a trickle of water running down, just enough to be audible. You turn your gaze to the left, and follow the path of the water- past mossy rocks and seedlings, just starting their life on the forest floor.
The Mississaugas of the Credit River maintained this place as “mishkodae”, a hunting meadow. It is now also known as David A Balfour park- this section is just barely wheelchair accessible and now heavily forested for an urban area.
You rock slowly down the narrow hard-packed path between rows of deep green rushes. The trees reach straight up to a bright blue sky, studded in pale green buds. There are birds -everywhere-. Their songs echo sweetly through the fresh spring air. Stop and take a breath. This is the fresh start promised by the earth after the long pause of winter.
It’s spring in the North, as gentle birdsong joyfully reminds you. The bright blue sky feels endless above you, spotted with wispy white clouds. The weight lifts off you as you survey the great expanse of sky, cool air and sunlight on your cheeks.
The crisp cold waters of Bennett Lake reflect snow capped mountains and fields of evergreen trees. It bubbles and ripples gently in the wind, turning the reflections of hill and trees into paintings. This Land has sheltered the Carcross/Tagish First Nation for (at least) hundreds of years.
Underneath the water lies the sun-bleached bones of a small boat- and to your right, sheets of sun-softened snow blanket the earth, edged with brown brush and green trees and the distant faces of ancient mountains.
First, choose the weather: the sun warms your bare skin OR bracing winter winds brush your cheeks.
You sit on the very edge of the shore of Lake Ontario, so named from the Wyandot for “great and beautiful lake”. The waves carry their rhythm: sometimes loud and rushing, sometimes burbling as the water sinks into the sand, rarely quiet as the waves prepare to break upon the beach. The greenblue water ebbs and flows, even over your feet once or twice! It tickles your toes, but mostly it’s very cold.
You close your eyes, and take a deep breath: inhale the scent of water on rock and wind over water. You are at peace.
The Willows Work 