Your clear waters calm my soul with every stroke of my paddle. My red canoe is drawn to islands where solitude and reflection have sustained me through formative years. A father’s love of nature flows through my veins like warm Summer breezes, and lessons learned are appreciated with every sunset’s glow. You are the catalyst that reunites long lost friends. You are Lac-du-Cerf.
For you Bill on our 37th anniversary.
Back to the Artwork pageYour clear waters calm my soul with every stroke of my paddle. My red canoe is drawn to islands where solitude and reflection have sustained me through formative years. A father’s love of nature flows through my veins like warm Summer breezes, and lessons learned are appreciated with every sunset’s glow. You are the catalyst that reunites long lost friends. You are Lac-du-Cerf.
For you Bill on our 37th anniversary.
Awaken before the rise of the sun. Listen through the ascending shroud for the call of the loon and the splash of the otter. Breathe in the early morn as paddle strokes caress placid waters, and absorb all that is offered in the Temagami mist.
Darkness descends on all who dwell here. Silhouettes emerge from granite pedestals set on fluid plains, but one stands out as a visitor to this primal land. Light ignites in feathery plumage dividing a placid sky. Ribbons curl on Eastern breezes, scattering celestial diamonds for all to see. Protect this place. Embrace its warmth and special gifts. Let its soul burn within you like Algonquin embers.
When approaching Algonquin, the quiet hush of nature begins its descent upon me. I feel the ever increasing distance from stress, noise, pavement and concrete. The layers of life’s hectic pace are replaced by nature’s serenity as I approach Algonquin.
More than one hundred years have passed over Achray landscapes. A guardian of the land, entrusted to protect the pillars of the forest, ventured along Grand Lake shores in search of inspiration. Across the waters of Carcajou Bay, violet horizons roll in serpentine rhythms, while foreground branches bow in sunbathed splendor. He ensured his dependent lived forever in his oil sketch, as rocky shores, pristine waters, and windswept Pines were the culmination of Thomson’s Jack Pine visions.
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