Many years ago area teens, likely bored and looking for action, would often get up to real mischief in the ravine. From young boys roaming about with an axe, looking to cut down a tree having to be told it wouldn't be a good idea and best if they went home with their axe, to others restively trying to set fires in dry summer seasons. Once someone or some several boys succeeded in setting a fire within a partial hollow of one of the largest old pines in the forest. The fire was reported and firemen put out the fire, but the charred area remained as a reminder, weakening that old tree that came down years afterward in a wild storm.

Close to thirty years ago when we first came to the area, there was rustic work-out equipment placed in various spots alongside trails in the ravine. There were benches placed here and there in picturesque places inviting people to contemplate nature seated in some comfort. Someone had made really innovative signage and hammered them to tree trunks at various places throughout the forest as informational directives. All these civilized initiatives meant to complement the urban forest inviting area residents to take advantage of enjoying the beauty and leisure opportunities were destroyed by roaming kids looking for adventure.

Once we called police ourselves when an older teen had ensconced himself on a thickly-treed hillside, in a tent. My husband scrambled across the creek and up the hill because we'd seen fire leap into action. The teen, who had been drinking and wasn't quite coherent when my husband asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, had set a blazing fire he was feeding with dead branches on a particularly windy, dry day. Firefighters responded to that one too, as did police, placing the fellow temporarily in a lock-up to 'dry out' as it were. We heard later from a firefighter acquaintance of ours that the teen was mourning a breakup with his girlfriend.

Young boys would often try to build little shelters on the hillsides, to play mountain men, away from civilization and parents' probing eyes, to gather about and boast about their exploits. Bicycles parked by the trails below the shelters gave evidence of the numbers involved from time to time. Speaking of bicycles there were frequent times when a youngster would speed down one of the hills and brake too late, hitting a tree. My husband would drive the child home, a little the worse for wear, on occasion.

More sophisticated shelters using tarps and broken tree masts for upright supports would be put in place by older kids below the flat areas at the peak of one of the hills where they would gather at night to light bonfires and boys and girls would revel in the opportunity to get away from prying eyes. They had placed stones in a circle and within the stone circle night time fires would glow in an area bare of trees for a bit of a stretch, while below lay the tarped shelter where during the daylight hours there would be afternoon 'meetings' whose purpose was clearly evident in the aura of 'skunk' that enveloped one passing by the nearest trail.

In the last decade there has been far less of the presence of these neighbourhood kids at loose ends. From time to time we'd come across someone, or see no one, but smell the fragrance of weed drifting by. Now, however, that recreational marijuana is legal in Canada, we increasingly, albeit not all that frequently, come across older people who no longer take steps to hide their cannabis smokes. It can be surprising but not all that much so, to see who smokes up and who doesn't, although without doubt as a leisure past time for many people it will become more frequently indulged in as people seek out discreet places to smoke.

When we were out today on the forest trails, as happens on occasion, we saw no one but the tell-tale odour of skunk was in the air. I've no idea why there are times when cannabis smells fairly innocuous whether the odour is fresh, strong or fading, and yet at other times the smell is distinctly skunk-like...

It was another bright day today, full sunshine, and for a change no more than a whisper of wind. At -8C it was still cold, the combination of cold and windlessness ensuring that the smell would linger. Wonder what the forest denizens think of it? Jackie and Jillie give it no mind whatever, far more interested in sniffing whether or not any of their canine friends have been around.