A short five minute walk from my childhood home, nestled between highway 40 and the Rivière des Prairies, stands the local nature park Bois-de-Liesse. As a child the black maple forest seemed vast and endless. Its dense covering a cloak hiding the many secrets beneath its keep. I was both fascinated and terrified of what could possibly lie in the underbrush. My mind spinning scenarios of bears or wolves coming out for the hunt if I strayed too far from the gravel trail. Or the possibility of stumbling on a clandestine gathering if I stayed past dark.
Bois-de-Liesse seemed, at least to me, like the many forests I had read about in books and seen in movies. Having it at my doorstep excited me. I, a young suburban girl, could be like one of those adventure characters whose stories unfold deep in the woods. Where a cataclysmic event sets the young protagonist on a life changing journey, accompanied by his or her’s friends. I wanted to form deep rooted bonds that would last a lifetime, and send evil grovelling to its knees. I wanted to be a part of something that was more than life at school in a developing town.
I grew up beneath these trees. Spent twilight riding through the trails behind my father, bushes lit by dancing fireflies. On warm mornings with a cool breeze, my brother and I hurried to the forest, our backpacks filled with sandwiches and snacks, listening to the ghost stories my godfather told as he kept up with us. As a teenager I plummeted down the winding trails on a secondhand bike, screaming “freedom” with my best friend. There were 6 a.m. runs to the bridge over Bertrand Brook, where I climb down to sit on the rocks to ponder in silence and mend broken hearts.
I wrote poetry about the forest, referenced it in short stories and essays. And when life hit me hardest, I sought comfort and shelter under its canopy. Its entity calling out to me with open arms awaiting an embrace. I welcomed the solace it offered, listening for its wisdom in the creaking branches overhead and the wind whistling through them.
I’m older since I’ve last visited and have learned the depths of greater forests. Taking Will to explore the corridors of my old home, of the place my roots began, revealed change for a new modern age and an awareness my perception of endless had grown.
I had peered through gaps in trees and poked through clearings to see mountains and lakes unveil before me. I had struggled up mountains, exhausted and sore, to gaze upon the landscapes of true infinity. My journey had exceeded the limits of Bois-de-Liesse and there was no changing that.
My home had changed, but so had I.
Note from the author:
Special thanks to William Botka at William B Photography for the beautiful pictures. If you’re interested in seeing more of his work, please visit his portfolio here or follow his instagram @williambphotographymtl.
