Autumn is a lovely time of year in the Ottawa Valley of Eastern Ontario, Canada.

Trees are ablaze with vibrant colors. The corn field’s close-cropped rows of golden stubs patiently await the first snowfall that will clothe them in blankets of diamonds or the plough that will return them to the earth from whence they came. The majestic evergreens along the edge of the fields reach skyward, furtively trying to tickle the bums of fluffy clouds as they drift along unawares.

As I toured the local geography on this beautiful day, my purpose was not simply to enjoy the scenery. I was a woman on a mission. I was looking for toilet paper. Specifically, toilet paper in trees!

A curious phenomenon occurs here in the Ottawa Valley, as it does in numerous other locations at this time of year.

Toilet paper appears in trees.

It’s always reassuring when the first toilet paper sightings are made. You know without a doubt that the season is progressing as it should. Dangling precariously from the leaf-bare branches, alongside the toilet paper you will sometimes find a preternatural assortment of witches, goblins, artificial cobwebs and a strange assortment of scuzzy black, orange and slime green what—nots.

As an adult, I do not participate in Halloween. However, as a child, I liked having fun traipsing around the neighborhood dressed up as ‘who-only-knows-what’, dutifully intent on scaring neighbors and scoring treats. (Sugar, sugar and more sugar, cleverly incognito in its colorful orange and black candy wrappers.)

As an adult, I still like having fun!

To me, toilet paper in trees superbly represents the fun that children and adults alike associate with the season.

I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to climb the trees to take it all down.

Especially after a rainstorm!