In Autumn’s fading light, the Maple, Birch and Sumac, reflect their warm and vibrant hues to all who gather near. Much can be gained by the knowledge and experience of others, as we take time to be still in their presence. Be in tune with the gifts of those in your forest dwelling, and like the mighty Pine, accept the warmth of Autumn’s Amber.
Back to the Artwork pageIn Autumn’s fading light, the Maple, Birch and Sumac, reflect their warm and vibrant hues to all who gather near. Much can be gained by the knowledge and experience of others, as we take time to be still in their presence. Be in tune with the gifts of those in your forest dwelling, and like the mighty Pine, accept the warmth of Autumn’s Amber.
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Release yourself from the trap of materialism and superficial goals. Rejoice in the sights, sounds, smells, and the touch of the sky, and all that lies beneath its gentle blanket. Pause and admire the stand of Birch set in a forest bathed in the fading light of milky and misty yellow hues. Marvel at the simple complexity of golden ivory.
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.
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.
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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