From little acorns mighty oaks do grow.
My earliest memories of oak trees is from kindergarten when Miss Broker took our class on a Fall hike in the woods. I've loved oak trees ever since. Their knobby leaves are pretty, but their nuts with their little berets have always been my favourite Fall find.
I had gone in search of Buttermilk Falls. I was disappointed to find it looking more like a municipal drain than a natural waterfall. Perhaps from a different perspective this ribbon falls would be more spectacular. I'll try to keep an open mind. Certainly, the forest around me was beautiful.
The area is called Oak Knoll Park, but I re-named it Knotty (or Naughty) Oak Park. This old tree stood steadfast in the thundering wind that sent leaves blowing in aerial somersaults. I suspect there won't be much colour left on the trees by the end of the day. The seasons they are a-changin'.
i'd love to wander the Niagara escarpment some day - you make it look incredibly poetic.
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