Canoe Country and Snowshoe Country by Florence

By Florence

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The lake glittered darkly blue, the pines were emerald sequins flashing in the wind. Long tangles of water grass wavered in gold-brown streamers about me, and then the brilliant sand shone clear again through the surge. The waves, rough as half-grown puppies, played about me, tossing me over, pushing me back to land. 52 At sunset the wind lessened, and we came back to our island camp. By the way, Lac la Croix seems to have a reputation for marooning travelers. I have a note from Hugh Paries' diary: Friday, August ij, 1804 "Embarked this morning and proceeded down to Lake Lacroix, but it blew such a strong head wind, that we did not go far forward.

We have a great stir of wild life around us, in an extremely small way. Chipmunks by the score gallop around, mad with curiosity. Chickadees swarm in the pines, right side up or upside down, it doesn't seem to matter; their dee-dee-dee's are con39 stant. Starring the camp are dragonflies of every kind, bronze ones, gigantic emerald ones almost as big as the chickadees, small ones of gossamer blue, which are my special favorites. And when I went down the shore to get driftwood, I ran into a migration of yellow warblers, hundreds of them, flicking in and out of the foliage like yellow sparks.

We have a great stir of wild life around us, in an extremely small way. Chipmunks by the score gallop around, mad with curiosity. Chickadees swarm in the pines, right side up or upside down, it doesn't seem to matter; their dee-dee-dee's are con39 stant. Starring the camp are dragonflies of every kind, bronze ones, gigantic emerald ones almost as big as the chickadees, small ones of gossamer blue, which are my special favorites. And when I went down the shore to get driftwood, I ran into a migration of yellow warblers, hundreds of them, flicking in and out of the foliage like yellow sparks.

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