"It was a nice sunny morning. Sometimes watching a huge body of water glisten makes that realization set in a little differently. The trip to Rattray Marsh offered me my first glimpse of Lake Ontario.
The wooded area itself felt like a dry thicket. No smell of moisture in the soil. Somehow, having grown up in India, the idea of a marsh is like the mangroves of the Sunderbans in West Bengal. Humid, oppressive. Five foot-tall trees with expanded umbrellas of juicy, green leaves. Not like the Rattray Marsh. Here, it was warm, hot even, but breezy. No indication of moisture hung in the air. Tall, relatively thin-stumped trees, with dry branches jutting out in random directions before getting lost in the leafy confines of a neighbouring tree. And the forest floor covered in broken logs, ferns, and other grasses of varying heights."
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