Going back to the farms, open arms

One hundred and sixty two acres of escape sit in one of the city's oldest neighbourhoods. The streets surrounding Riverdale Farm are lined with preserved Victorian homes, but only a few blocks away the city gives way to dense high rises, incessant traffic, and thick smog. We walk away from everything urban and slip into a place that once was. On a plot of too-green grass we pull out a picnic, complete with celebratory birthday cake. Then, we wander out of the park, and into the farm.

Sheep, chickens, cows, donkeys, and goats came to greet us. The hippos, elephants, and lions left empty cages down below the farm, where remnants of the old Toronto Zoo still stand. We peered into the "jail farm" of tiny barred cages, which was opened in 1880 and operated for almost a century until it was replaced by the modern zoo in 1974. Moss and trees have now overgrown the small site, which is lightly littered with cigarette butts and empty cans left behind by the animals who now inhabit the city's parks at night. 

As the afternoon grew into early evening we walked back to our city-sized apartments on top of concrete streets. When night took over the sky we listened to hip hop outside with the rest of the urbanites and sunk back into our metropolitan lives. We went to sleep to the sounds of the city, but rested assured that the farms are never too far away.