As the last days of summer plummet into autumn in Toronto, I decided to make a pilgrimage across town to High Park, a vast wooded acreage (hectarage?) in the city’s West end. Where I expected to wander the woods, however, I ended up spending almost all of my time along the shores of Grenadier Pond.
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- A tranquil oasis in the city
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- There’s fishing and catching…this was fishing
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- A gull catches a breeze
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- Two ducks come to check on the photographer
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- Rumours of a Toronto croc abound
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- Safe on the dark water, a duck slowly winds its way through the underbrush
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- The ducks were more apt to approach than depart
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- Two swans search for food
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- Keeping literally one eye on me
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- One duck stands sentinel over its sleeping compatriots
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- Two streams take their time mixing
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- Through a break in the trees, the old man surveys my activities
For a little of the mythology of Grenadier Pond (and those pesky invading Americans), there’s a nice piece in the Toronto Standard.
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