Parks, Gardens & Conservation Areas
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Woodend Conservation Area
In 1779 Peter Lampman , a United Empire Loyalist, fled New York state with his family and received a 650 hectare grant of land that later became Woodend.
Canadian poet Archibald Lampman was Peter's grandson, and among his many famous poems, he wrote about his grandfather's farm. In 1931 subsequent family members built the present-day house. It is now the Woodend Environmental Centre, an outdoor education centre for students of the District School Board of Niagara.
This 45 hectare Conservation Area is a unique section of escarpment with cliffs on either side of the point. There are spectacular views to the vineyards and orchards way below, spreading northward towards Lake Ontario. The Bruce Trail passes through Woodend. Two Conservation Area trails take visitors on either side of the escarpment edge and through broad-leaf hardwood species such as sugar maple, beech, red oak, forest communities that are representative of Niagara's Carolinian forest environments. If you are lucky you might even find a Paw Paw tree!
QEW Niagara exit 38, Glendale Avenue Glendale Avenue southwest towards the Niagara Escarpment, about 200 yards (a Tim Hortons coffee shop is behind you on the north side of the QEW) Left onTaylor Road at the lights (you will then pass Niagara College campus on the left) Taylor Road drive about two kilometers and near the top of the hill Left into the Woodend Conservation Area. (There is a sign, but it is hard to see. And if you get to Mountain Road you have gone too far) Once into Woodend, do not park in the first parking lot. Instead, drive as far as you can, the main parking lot is about a kilometer up the road.
A NIAGARA LANDSCAPE
a sonnet by Archibald Lampman
Heavy with haze that merges and melts free
Into the measureless depth on either hand,
The full day rests upon the luminous land
In one long noon golden reverie.
Now hath the harvest come and gone with glee.
The shaven fields stretch smooth and clean away,
Purple and green, and yellow, and soft gray,
Chequered with orchards.
Farther still I see
Towns and dim villages, whose roof-tops fill
The distant mist, yet scarcely catch the view.
Thorold set sultry on its plateau'd hill,
And far to westward, where yon pointed towers
Rise faint and ruddy from the vaporous blue,
Saint Catharines, city of the host of flowers.