we walked to an abandoned farmhouse.

This is the small story of a family walk to an abandoned farmhouse on the day before Thanksgiving. Two parents, two pups and their girl; bedecked in checkered plaid, stripes, leggings, wool socks and rainboots, like true Canadians ought to be. Light and shadow patterned the trails from between the countless branches and skeleton trunks, while the perfume of pine and dead leaves hung heavy in the air. This is a story that matters to me.