Summer’s rich abundance yields an Autumn thirst for bronze, copper, reds and golds. The passionate craving for colour and richness before the dead of winter, is a desperate grasp at what we all know will be lost as winter descends and blankets all of the Autumn Blaze.
Back to the Artwork pageSummer’s rich abundance yields an Autumn thirst for bronze, copper, reds and golds. The passionate craving for colour and richness before the dead of winter, is a desperate grasp at what we all know will be lost as winter descends and blankets all of the Autumn Blaze.
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The sky is painted with crimson brush strokes, as the winds of haste fade to calm. Take pause from tasks that hinder your soul, and reflect on your growth and achievements. Know you have made a difference in the world in quiet and subtle ways. In ways that are hidden in the warm mist far from turmoil of the surface waves. Be still and absorb the rejuvenating spirit of sunset breezes.
Look closely through the morning mist, for a presence looms over this unspoiled land. Gentle movements betray this majestic giant as he steps with nonchalant intentions. The shroud grows thicker, and visions fade with the realization that you have witnessed a silent spirit.
Paddle strokes heard through the morning mist foreshadow an artist in search of inspiration. Algonquin presents its gifts to all who are willing to receive. Some see landscapes in vibrant colours and bold brushstrokes, while others pass without thought. Be a painter with your presence. Protect the forest, and guide others to respect its treasures. Move slowly, and absorb the vistas before you. Take pause from devices that distract, and discover your inner Thomson.
I hear the world differently than you. Visual cues present themselves, and guide me in ways unknown to most. I hear rustling leaves through oscillating shimmer, as they dance to an East wind’s command. The splash of a Northern Pike delights me, as ripples radiate then fade to still waters. A loon’s crimson eyes rise and fall in royal splendour, as its lonely call brushes my soul. Night falls as ashen shadows and azure skies cloak reflective silence. All who bear witness unite in my world. I am not alone in the presence of the night birch.
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