Allyn Esau stands on a dirt trail in a ravine next to Edmonton’s Whitemud Freeway. A creek gently trickles to the west, muffling the whoosh of the freeway traffic. A forest of conifers and poplars sways to the east. It’s a June afternoon.
“It’s a bright, beautiful day,” she says. “There’s a lot of different colours. Try to see what stands out for you.”
A group of women and men look around, slowly taking in the different hues in Whitemud Creek Ravine South—from the browns and greys of tree bark to the greens of grass, leaves and spruce needles.




