More ideas from Josefine
Boundary Waters Canoe Area

A glance over the shoulder a whisper in the mist, an echo through the trees. Spirit travelers, shamans and tricksters. As surely as his paddle slices the surface, he knows he is not alone. Poem by Wintercove Paddler in the early morning mist.

There's just something about those layers of pine, I'm so blessed I can still see this from my front porch!

Doesn't this make you want to camp/hike/hunt?