We sat on a little shelf of rock under the pines where we could watch the firelight change the branches and their tracery to coppery gold. For hours we watched them and the reflection on the water, but when a loon called from the open lake and then swam like a ghost into the circle of light, the scene was touched with magic.
To read an article about Sigurd F. Olson (1899-1982), the author of the quotation above, click here.
To read an article about the loon, click here.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Each comment on a post on this blog must be relevant to that post. Your comments should always be gracious and, if possible, sprinkled with insight.