July 10, 2005

img_2711-1.jpgPainting No. 9 First Evening, Cedar Lake

It was plus 34 degrees.  I barely finished this painting before the bugs moved in.  After setting up camp, I went down to the shore of Cedar Lake.  I sat on a log and took in the visuals.  This lake literally breathes serenity; it is intense and delicious.

Instead of just passing through the lake as I have done on my previous canoe trips, I now stopped to explore and develop a relationship with it.  I tend to treat all of these lakes as individual entities, not unlike humans.  They have their own peculiarities.  By honouring them, we honour the work they do.  They clean the water and give life, all without our help or interference.  Much can still be done to make Algonquin Park less of a marketing tool and more of a benchmark, for preservation, at least what is now left of it.

After sitting on the log for a while the sheer length and breadth of the lake drove aside all these thoughts.  Long fingers of amber, jade and blue shrouded the land, reaching out in prayer from distant shores.  The sky of the waning day was a medley of shell pinks, misty mauves and muted blues.  The colours, reflected in the ripples on the lake’s surface, danced a constant waltz in rhythm with the lake’s heartbeat.

When I finished the painting, I walked to the edge of the lake. Bending down and cupping the water in my hands, I let it wash over my head and face in a cleansing baptism. It felt good.

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