Article content There is a reason that Goldilocks went into the bears’ house in the fairytale; she likely smelled the delicious porridge and was drawn in. After that, with her belly full, she needed a rest. I had my own Goldilocks story in Peterborough, and if you will extent me the poetic license, I will tell you my tale.
(Though, I will proudly state that, unlike Goldilocks, I had consent to be there, and there were no bears). My tale is one of a precocious blond, curious by nature, wanting to see and do new things. My story also involved outdoor and indoor activities including a quasi-nature walk.
I walked along the waterfront on a bright sunny day in downtown Peterborough, Ont. The water sparkled, and I followed a pedestrian walk on a rail bridge across into a quaint neighbourhood. I did not break and enter into any homes.
[ snapgallery id=”2627723′′] Emerging from the treed street, I smelled something comforting, and followed my nose. Was that cinnamon? The smell was getting stronger, and it was definitely oatmeal. Now I remember being told that Peterborough houses a Quaker oatmeal factory.
What a delightful fragrance wafting through the air, beckoning me closer. I looped back along the waterfront pathway, past bronze statues of animals and children, perhaps a giant squirrel that had a bird on its head at one time. Still no bears.
There was a rumble in my stomach, and a desire for a bowl of oatmeal. My hunger had me reminiscing about my wonderful meal the night b.
