||It's evening in
Like a slow steady
stream, evening flows through the land, calming wind rippled
water, filling rough shores with it's somber mood, slowly
climbing bright trees until they darken and merge and close into
a wall of mystery.
On the shores of the Haggart River, the weary
pines stand now in shadow, their roots gripping cracks
and fissures in the hard granite. Servants of the
wind during the day, they're still now, waiting
in silence, as if they sense that the land will
now change, and all that was, will, for a time,
be no more.
The wilderness shore offers a small
patch of smooth rock and the canoe travelers
gratefully land and stretch and walk around their
home for the night. A few steps from the shore,
there's a small patch of soft green moss, perfect
for their small green tent. There's a place
nearby where water can be drawn for a bath or to
put out a campfire. Dead trees and driftwood are
everywhere, and with no wind they can build a
small fire on the level rock next to the river.
Just behind their fireplace, the rock offers a
gently sloping couch, perfect for gazing at the
Milky Way as it glows like a soft cloud against
the dark September sky.
During the day, separated in
their canoe, the travelers spoke little. Bright
skies and bright thoughts and the exhilaration of
travel kept them apart. They lived a world of
sights and sounds and smells, of strains and
pulls and small triumphs. Now, as darkness
shrinks their world, the fire draws them together
to talk and laugh and wonder. Later, as hot coals
glow on the wilderness shore, they lean back and
watch stars slowly drift across the sky.
It's evening along the Haggart
River, in Ontario's Woodland Caribou Park...