Harvest Festival And The Gnome Road

I woke up before 8 am, not because I wanted to, but because the kids in across the road from me were fairly noisy in their early morning play and excitement, and I couldn't go back to sleep. I would have gotten up, but the sun wasn't up yet and it was still a bit chilly so I stayed all cozy in my sleeping bag for awhile listening to the kids, the wind, and the waves. 
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When I did finally get up and out of bed, I had to focus on packing up my stuff because today I am off to a new park. I am headed to the last park on my trip which is Bronte Creek Provincial Park. 

As I packed up, I had a Pine Tree Spur-throat Grasshopper watching my every move from the top of one of my tent poles. I had to eventually shoo him away. 

What came as a big surprise to me were the number of cocoons (4) from the Tussock caterpillars that I found under my tent as I packed up. They had established themselves so quickly. I moved them to a nearby tree. 

I was not overly excited to go to Bronte Creek because I had been to this park about 25 years ago and I remember distinctly not being happy with it because it had been like camping in the middle of a field with next to no trees. There had been zero privacy. But I was willing to give it another go. I was only going to be there for one night. So, if I didn't like it, it wasn't the end of the world. 

I was on the road by 10:15 am. Driving was pretty straight forward but the traffic was bad around Hamilton and Oakville and at times I came to almost a complete stop. 

Now Bronte Creek Park is split into two sections that do not directly join up with each other. You have to drive down the highway to get from the side where the camp sites are, to the side where the Day Use section is. Of course, as luck would have it,  the GPS sent me to the Day Use section. 

At the gate, the girl gave me the address for the camp ground so that I could plug it into my GPS (they probably get that a lot, I bet).  I had to get back onto the highway to the next exit to get to where I needed to go. I hated it. It was so stressful driving down the over crowded highway in a big city. I was so thankful to be able to get off the highway and onto the quieter road that led to the campground. 

I got to the campground 40 minutes early (check in time is at 2 pm) but the girl at the office said that if no one was on the site, that I could go ahead and set up. 

I drove down the dirt road to my site # 416. I was happy to see that no one was on it. 

I got out of the car and looked around. I was very happy to find that over the past 25 years, the park had changed quite a bit and for the better. There were plenty of large healthy trees all around me. The privacy had improved dramatically. This park was no longer an open field. It was cute and cozy and I liked it. 

It was very clean and spacious, with green grass growing on the site. 

Despite my orange tent being impossible to put up at Pinery Park, I decided to try to put it up again. This time it went up with no issues. Probably because it wasn't pouring down rain today. 

I opted not to bother with the dining tent since it is a lot of extra work and I am only camping for one more night. Besides, the weather is supposed to be good. 

I was all set up and eating lunch by 2 pm. As I sat eating I noticed how quiet and peaceful it is here. The campers are all quiet and respectful. 

​I had a couple little visitors at my campsite already. A little spider was camping out. 

And this little critter was one I had never seen before.  From the research I have done, I am guessing it is a Tawny Cockroach. But I am not completely sure. 

The bathroom was close to my site. It is pretty small and the lock doesn't work great so I almost got locked in. 

It had a "sanitary door opener" mechanism at the base of the door which I had never seen in a provincial park before. 

The bathrooms were not very clean, but they did have flush toilets so that was a bonus. 

It's a gorgeous day. The sun is shining and it is hot like summer even though it is September. 
I was torn between driving back to the Day Use area or walking the trails here in the campground. 

I wondered if I had to pay extra to get into the Day Use area. I wish they had a walking bridge over the ravine that separates the two parts of the park. I had zero desire to get back on that highway again. I wondered if there was a different way to get there. Maybe down some back roads?  

I pulled up Google Maps and took a closer look. There seemed to be a different route. However, it would take me 24 minutes to get there down the back roads where it would only be 8 minutes if I went back down the highway. 

I decided that it was worth the extra time to go down the back roads. I was in no hurry. I was on vacation! 
And my nerves that were already shot would thank me for it. 

It worked great! And I arrived at the Day Use section relatively stress free. 

At the Day Use gate I asked if I had to pay to get in if I was already registered as a camper. She just asked for my name and was able to look me up in the system. Then she printed me up a permit for the  dashboard of my car. 

I wanted to go to the Park Store first but the road and the parking lot (Lot D) for the store was closed. That meant no park sticker for my passport book. I guess I will have to order it online instead. 

So I kept driving to Lot F where the Heritage House was located. 

I couldn't have picked a better day to come here. Not only was the weather fantastic, but they were hosting a Harvest Festival here.  I had no idea that this event was taking place. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. 

I parked my car and looked around to see where I should begin.  I saw the sign for the Spruce Lane Farmhouse and decided that would be a good place to start. 

I love old houses with a lot of character. This one definitely had character.  

The Spruce Lane house was pretty busy and at times crowded with all the festival goers coming in and out. Everyone was having a great time. 

As I stepped through the door I felt like I was transported to a different time. The sitting room was decorated with a deep, rich, red colour.. 

There was a gramophone in one corner, but you weren't allowed to touch it and there was no music playing on it. 

There was a sectioned off corner that looked almost  like an enclosed patio. Apparently it was the "smoking porch" where the men would go to smoke their pipes and cigars so that the smoke didn't tarnish the curtains or wallpaper. 

It is interesting to note that this meant that even way back then, they knew that smoking made your house dingy and dirty. 

All over the house were these red hand symbols that said "Try This".  They were there to let you know that you were allowed to interact with certin items. 

In this case it was the dumbwaiter. You could pull the rope to make it go up or down. 

There was another one in the kitchen by the sink. It encouraged you to try pumping water into the sink. 

Upstairs were multiple bedrooms. Each one was decorated to represent a member of the family (children, parents, grandparents). 

The bathroom was also upstairs and boasted a large tub with a wooden edge. I had never seen one quite like it before. 

One of the fun parts of the house was the secret stairs. Kids in particular liked the idea of a mysterious secret staircase. Who doesn't? 

I couldn't resist. I just had to know where the lead to. The well worn steps went down and then around a corner, so you didn't know where you would end up. 

At the bottom of the steps was a closed door. What would be behind it? Did it lead to a cellar? 

Nope! It lead back down stairs to the main floor close to where the dumbwaiter was situated. 
I am guessing the secret stairs were once used by the servants and staff of the house. But perhaps I am wrong.

There were a number of park staff members (or maybe volunteers) that were dressed in old timey attire. I could have asked one of them but  I didn't get a chance to ask them because they were so busy speaking with other people.

​ I decided that I didn't need to know and instead I went outside to see what else there was taking place at the Harvest Festival. 

People were everywhere, enjoying the sunshine and the festivities. There were a whole bunch of booths and demonstrations going on.  There was apple tasting, hands on learning of things like grinding grain, carding wool, making music, tours of the barn, etc.  The kids just loved it. And the adults were having a great time too!

​Some were taking a break from all this activity and were sitting on a wooden bench with beautifully carved maple leaves. 

A popular spot at the harvest festival was the pumpkin patch. With a donation, people were allowed to go into the field and choose their own pumpkin. 

As families ambled through the sprawling pumpkin patch, the air was filled with laughter and animated conversations, each voice weaving into the fabric of the day. The pumpkins, were scattered across the field, beckoning with their vibrant orange hues, inviting eager hands to pick the perfect one. Though each family was technically limited to a single pumpkin, I couldn’t help but notice several sneaky parents, with their arms overflowing with two or more of the pumpkins, grinning as if they’d just uncovered a hidden treasure. Yet, even with this minor rebellion against the rules, the field remained generously dotted with pumpkins, ensuring that every visitor could still find their ideal pumpkin. That is probably why the people who were in charge of the pumpkin patch didn't seem to notice or care that people were ignoring the one pumpkin limit. 

A green tractor came and went across the grounds carrying wagon loads of people on a hay ride. 

Rows of sunflowers grew taller than some of the adults.

For those that were hungry or thirsty, there were various food stalls situated throughout the festival grounds. There was everything from Kettle Corn, to Hot Dogs, and Corn and even Cotton Candy.

It was past lunch time and I was a getting hungry, so I wandered over to the hot dog stand.  The prices were a bit steep but the money went towards improving and maintaining the park. So I just thought of it more of a donation than a purchase and that way it didn't seem as bad. 

I wasn't the only one eating. The sheep were in their stall eating hay. 

And the pigs were in their pen rooting around for food too. 

Even a little House Sparrow had found some seeds to eat. 

There was a small group of cows seeking shade under the trees. They seemed happy to be away from all the people and the noise and the din of the festival. 

I was torn between going to look for the cotton candy stall and going on a hike on the Half Moon Valley Trail. 
The trail won out. I figured I would look for the cotton candy when I got back. 

As I approached the trailhead, the signs warning of Cow Parsnip immediately caught my attention. In recent years, sightings of the invasive wild parsnip, also known as poison parsnip, have surged across southeastern Ontario, particularly in the Durham Region. Though visually appealing, this plant poses serious risks; its sap contains chemicals that can cause severe skin reactions when exposed to sunlight, leading to painful burns, rashes, and even long-lasting scars. The wild parsnip is frequently mistaken for other plants like giant hogweed, cow parsnip, Queen Anne’s lace, and angelica.

Up until only a few years ago, I had never even heard of cow parsnip. Now I seem to hear warnings about it fairly frequently each year. 

On this trip, my dad and mom have not been far from my mind. We have always been a camping family so it is only natural that I would think of them when I am out in the parks. So it was fitting to find this bench with the sign on it that talked about scattering cremated remains of loved ones in the park. We intend to spread my dad and mom's ashes in one of the provincial parks in the future. Most likely we will do so on a conoeing trip. 

There were a few other people on the trail. But the further I walked the fewer people I saw until finally I was alone in the peacefulness of the trees for a short while. 

Depending on which part of the trail you took, you sometimes went down some stairs. 

Or you sometimes went uphill and walked along the edge of a steep ravine. 

From some spots at the top of the ravine you could see the flowing water of the creek below. 

A Blue Jay was watching me as I walked along the trail. 

There was a part of the trail that was closed off to visitors in order to help to regrow the vegetation that had been damaged and trampled over the years by so many people walking there. 

During certain times in the season you are allowed to go fishing for certain species of fish. I passed by a handful of visitors with fishing rods in their hands heading for the creek. 

As I ventured deeper into the heart of the woods, I encountered several enchanting stretches of the trail where the trees arched gracefully overhead, their branches intertwining to form a canopy. This natural formation created a sense of wonder, transforming the path into a shaded tunnel. I felt cocooned in this serenity, as if the world outside had faded away.

Eventually I made it down to the creek.  There were quite a few people here.  Some were fishing, and some were watching their kids play by the water's edge.  I noticed a group of parents and kids gathered around a log looking at something. The kids seemed excited by whatever it was they were looking at. 

Out of curiosity, I wandered over closer to take a look for myself. It was a large Praying Mantis sitting on a log. Now I was excited too! I had never seen one in the wild because we don't tend to have many of them up north where I am from. 

I was impressed by how respectful the kids were being. No one was poking it or trying to pick it up. I asked if I could take a photo of it and everyone politely and graciously stepped back so I could do so. 

I left the group and continued down the trail that followed the shoreline for a bit. The water seemed pretty shallow, but considering there were people fishing, it must have been deep enough. 

Along the banks of the creek flowers were growing. There was the yellow of the Jerusalem Artichoke. 

The pink of the Himalayan Balsam

And the white of the Asters.

By the time I had finished walking the trail, the Harvest Festival was over and the stalls were packing up. There were still plenty of people around and kids were playing on the swings. But I never did get the chance to find the cotton candy stand. 

As I made my way back to the parking lot to find my car, I noticed a sign that listed the annual events that take place in Bronte Creek Park.  The ones that seemed particularly interesting to me were the Ghostwalks in August and the New Years Eve Coyote Howl. 

I started to drive back towards the entrance. Along the way I noticed the sign for the Dog Park so I stopped to check it out. 

This dog park was an off leash dog park and it was huge. There was so much space for dogs to explore and so many trails to follow.  My dog would love it here. 

Since I didn't have my dog with me I didn't stay at the dog park for too long.  Instead I hopped back into my car and headed to the picnic area. There was supposed to be a petting zoo somewhere in this area. 

I parked the car and noticed a sign showing where the park store is located. I know that it is closed but I figured  I would go explore the area just the same. 

I followed a small trail towards my destination. There was no one else around. It was just me and it was so peaceful. 

The first thing I came to was a large outdoor basketball court, its faded lines stark against the weathered asphalt, which had absorbed countless stories of triumph and defeat. The towering hoops stood sentinel, their nets swaying gently in the breeze, a haunting reminder of games once played with fervor and laughter. The absence of players transformed the place into a desolate tableau. I could almost hear the echoes of sneakers squeaking, the rhythmic bounce of a basketball, and the cheers of friends. Instead, an eerie silence enveloped the area, amplifying the solitude as if the court itself was holding its breath, waiting for the return of life and competition.

On the other side of the court was a long white building, empty and quiet, its exterior stark against the blue sky. The paint, once fresh and bright, was now chipped and faded, revealing layers of history beneath the surface. Windows, like unblinking eyes, stared out at the world, their glass panes clouded with dust and neglect. Weeds pushed through the cracks in the pavement, reclaiming space as nature always does. It stood like a ghost  town, waiting for someone to breathe life back into its walls.

On the other side of the building, behind a chain-link fence, lay an empty swimming pool, a stark reminder of happier days. The surrounding area was overgrown with wild grasses and dandelions, making the pool feel even more isolated, as if it had been forgotten by time itself. An eerie stillness hung in the air. It was evident that the pool hadn't seen a splash of joy in years.

(Further research, once I got home, told me that this pool hasn't been open in 6 years or more due to a need for repairs and that local residents are angry that repair work has not even begun yet after all these years) . 
https://www.oakvillenews.org/local-news/closed-bronte-provincial-park-pool-angering-residents-8478463​

I peered inside one of the windows of the big white building. It definitely looked like it hadn't been used in awhile either. 

The lawns and the picnic areas looked like they were well taken care of though. 

I headed back down the trail with the intentions of trying to find the children's petting zoo. The trail took me past a large hill that is a toboggan hill in the winter time. 

At the moment, the hill was only just growing Milkweed.  There was a trail to the top and some kids were climbing it. I did not feel a need to climb a hill at this point though. I had been hiking all day and I was too tired to climb hills.  Instead I followed the path around the base of the hill. 

I met the parents of the kids that were climbing the hill and I asked them for directions to the petting zoo. One parent told me that it was now closed for the day but that I might enjoy walking the Gnome Road instead. 

A Gnome Road? I would love to walk the Gnome Road! Point me in the right direction!  And so off I went to have an adventure with the gnomes. 

These gnomes were a welcoming bunch.

As I meandered down the path, the air was filled with a sense of wonder and whimsy. Each step revealed more of the enchanting world around me, with vibrant colors peeking through the foliage. I spotted tiny gnome houses, meticulously crafted from twigs, wood, paint, and stones, their roofs adorned with bright moss and delicate flowers. Some were nestled between tree roots, while others peeked out from behind rocks, as if inviting me to discover their secrets. Each miniature dwelling seemed to tell its own story, sparking my imagination with thoughts of the tiny inhabitants who might dwell within. The charm of this hidden realm captivated me, igniting a childlike curiosity and reminding me of the magic that can be found in the most unexpected places.

It was not just the whimsical gnome houses that captured the imagination; the delightful birdhouses nestled in the branches of nearby trees added a charming touch to the landscape. Each birdhouse was a marvel of creativity, painted in vibrant hues of blue, yellow, pink, and red. Some were fashioned to resemble tiny cottages, complete with miniature shutters and thatched roofs, while others sported whimsical shapes like stars, mushrooms and acorns. 

The Gnome Road was interactive and revealed a series of tiny, intricately crafted doors nestled among the roots of trees and beneath vibrant mushroom caps. With a gentle tug, I opened one door with an acorn painted on it to discover a giant oak tree hidden behind it. Another door revealed a snake slithering behind the rocks. Still another door that was painted like a bee hive divulged a fuzzy bumble bee veiled beneath. The sheer delight of uncovering these hidden things, ignited my curiosity and made the trail an unforgettable adventure in a land where magic thrived.

You never knew what you would find behind doors or inside hollow logs. 

And there were special visitors on the gnome road that day.  Special hand painted squirrels were hidden around the trail and hikers were invited to spot them all. 

I spotted one beneath a hand painted wooden truck. 

Some gnome homes were brightly coloured and obvious, while others were more subtle and blended in with the terrain. 

Along the edge of the gnome road someone had started a rock snake.  People would add hand painted rocks to the end of the snake to see how long it could get. There were some rocks painted by some very talented painters. There was also a rock added by someone who came as far away as Hungary to place it. 
​I didn't have any painted rocks with me to add to it. But now that I know the rock snake is there, I will be sure to add one next time I come to visit. 

The gnome village even had it's very own gnome church called St. Gnomely. 

This gnome house looked like it came straight out of the Beetlejuice movie. 

I was not prepared for the next section of gnome road. It was a tribute to someone's mom who had passed away. Bird feeders were adorned with heartfelt messages and small tokens of love. My heart ached, knowing that it was nearly a year since I had lost my own mother, the weight of grief still fresh in my soul.

But the real shock came when I read the name inscribed on the bird feeders.... Brenda. It took my breath away, as that was my mother’s name. In that instant, time seemed to stand still, and I felt an uncanny connection to a stranger’s loss, reminding me that love and memory transcend individual grief, intertwining our lives in unexpected ways.​

By the time I had finished walking the Gnome Road my heart was full and spirits were buoyed.  God works in mysterious ways! 

I chuckled as I passed by a bird feeding station and saw a little chipmunk peering out from inside, his tiny paws resting on the edge. In that whimsical moment, my childlike imagination took flight, conjuring a delightful narrative where this clever little chipmunk was the mastermind behind the bird feeder’s construction. I envisioned him gathering wood, nails, and paint,  meticulously crafting a little wooden fortress, all with the sly intention of enticing unsuspecting humans to fill it with a bounty of peanuts and seeds. He looked like a little shop keeper waiting for passers by.  As he peeked out, eyes sparkling with mischief, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of nature’s little trickster, forever plotting his next snack heist. Perhaps he would even invite his woodland friends to participate in his grand scheme, forming a merry band of mischief-makers.

Although I was told that the petting zoo would be closed, I still felt inclined to go and look around just the same.  Other people passed me by as I walked in that direction, so I knew I was not the only one who thought that way.  In the distance I could see an old brick farmhouse  nestled in beside some pine trees. 

This brought on more nostalgia for me because the house looked similar to my grandmother's little red school house that I had been to so many times as a kid. So many happy memories. 

The red bricks, weathered and worn, seemed to whisper stories of yesteryears, evoking a flood of nostalgia that washed over me like a warm embrace. It reminded me so vividly of my Farmor's (grandmother) little red schoolhouse. I could almost hear her voice,  transporting me back to my childhood days spent playing games, watering the flowers, telling stories and going for long walks. Each glance at that distant home stirred a longing for simpler times, and a connection to my roots. 

When I reached the steps of the red brick house I noticed the sign that indicated that this was the park's Nature Centre. 

I really wanted to go inside, however, it was closed for the season. I guess I will have to come back one day earlier in the season. 

I wandered the grounds exploring the area. There was jungle gym in the back and some kids were playing on it. 

I headed towards the big red barn, hoping that maybe I could stil get a glimpse of any animals that may still be around. 

But the only animals I saw were some birds.  But this bird in particular grabbed my interest pretty quickly. That is because it was a Blue Bird.  Yet another creature I had never seen before today except in picture books.  I had always thought that when I saw a Blue Bird it would be more, well.... blue. However, after doing some research I found out that Blue Birds are not always a vivid blue. And this one is a female so it wouldn't get as bright as the males would.  But if I looked real close and squinted, I could make out a grey-blue patch near the base of its tail.  So, not only did I get to walk the Gnome Road, but I also saw a Blue Bird of Happiness today! 

Way up on the roof top was a Mourning Dove surveying the land below. 

And perched in a tree by the parking lot was a Blue Jay. 
By the time I reached my car in the parking lot it was 6:15 pm and time to go back to camp. 

Back at camp I made a fire with the last of the wood that I had.  I cooked some hotdogs for supper and sat by the fire and just quietly listened the comings and goings of the park. 

​As I settled into my camp chair, the night began to awaken. I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing the symphony of nature—the chirping crickets, the soft rustling and talking of nearby campers, and the flickering flames.

​It wasn't very dark here and there is no real sunset. There are too many trees to see the sunset. . Yet, amidst the urban brightness, I was delighted to catch glimpses of twinkling stars, small diamonds scattered across the indigo canvas above. Each star seemed to whisper stories of distant worlds, urging me to dream a little longer. A  sense of contentment wash over me, as I reflected on the day’s adventures.

It's surprisingly peaceful here. You hardly notice that there are bustling highways and a sprawling city that lie just beyond this natural sanctuary..

When the fire went out, I headed off to bed  in my cozy little sleeping bag. 
Outside, a symphony of sounds filled the night air, where crickets chirped insistently, their rhythmic melodies competing against the distant roar of airplanes overhead and the sporadic hum of passing vehicles on the road. It was a curious battle, one that seemed to shift with the wind. At times, the crickets would triumph, their chorus rising to a jubilant crescendo that drowned out the mechanical intruders, while other moments saw the planes and cars overpowering the natural serenade with their relentless noise. I closed my eyes, letting the ebb and flow of this nocturnal contest lull me into a peaceful slumber, wondering which side would claim victory by dawn.