The North Woods
Stretched before a gentle fire surrounded in cast iron, the concert beyond the picture window unfolds to whispers of cobalt or azure illusion and crested gray mingled with tiny shimmers of russet, umber and camel. Daily they scamper, peck and tussle over birdseed. The backdrop is a ripple of hunter, moss and kelly, which reveals glimpses of cloud wisps floating above ten thousand lakes in the ‘land of sky blue waters,’ a power that surged and sliced between granite and gneiss, nurturing tall, lofty pines and eerie birch woodlands. So absolute is the serenity it allows silence amongst us, periods of gazing in stillness at the skies without words or concern. Air so clear you truly smell fertile earth, bountiful water, the musky, damp moss that clings and drips from roofs, trees and blankets rocks—a spongy, rich green sheathe. The soaring symbol of this Turtle Island competes with loons and man for aquatic sustenance. Bucks crash through broken birch while Monarchs and Zebra Swallowtails flutter from Horseweed to Arrowhead surrounded by Flower of the Dead.
The recital of late summer sights cause wonder of deep frigid winters—the pristine and hushed dwelling of gray wolves and black bears.