Ben Hovinga

I was doing some hiking just north of Oshawa in a conservation area called Purple Woods when I took some amazing photos. More coming soon.

Got this nice picture of this baby tree.

Click image to download

This is a poem that my girlfriend made and sent me. This happens to her every morning when she walks the dog.

Dancing Leaves
By: Sami Hawkins

There is no light,
As I step outside.
The crisp morning air
Trickles over my skin,
Skips down my throat,
As I inhale deeply.
The remains of sleep,
Are shocked out of my mind,
As the breeze rolls over me,
I walk.

The wind picks up,
it slowly gets colder,
As I walk along the dark
familiar street I hold close to me
the last feeling of warmth from my bed,
from my dreams.

The slight thudding sounds
Of rhythmic steps are overtaken
By the howl of the wind.
One last gust of cool air whips
My hair wildly before it suddenly stops.

The silence is deafening for a moment,
But a whisper of rustling draws me.
It’s a tree, tucked between others of its kind,
Yet towering above the rest.
As I stand below the strange tree
The whispers grow to a roar of dancing leaves
From top to bottom every single leaf skipped, twirled
In the wind that was not there.

How? I’ll never know,
I don’t think I should.
Chilling and unnerving
Yet Wonderful and odd.
knocked by the cold wind
shivers roll over my skin,
a sign to go back,
back to my bed,
back to my dreams of dancing leaves.