“The fire crackles and dances in the darkness of the night. The reflections on Fee Lake of the spruce and white pines are faintly seen with the light of the slivered moon. Across the glassy plane in the forest the whippoorwill calls, taking watch of the wilderness from the white-throated sparrow who keeps eye on this beauty during the day. In the evening, near sunset, the sparrow sings its musical departure, letting all the woods know that it shall take post with the rising of the sun.
Somewhere in the water I can hear the beaver moving, working to complete his next task, to accrue enough wood for the lodge or cut enough leafy timber to eat for the winter. Every once in a while he will catch wind of my presence and with all his power throw his tail against the water to break the silence and let other beavers know of an intruder. Before long he forgets about me and continues his work.
The stars hang overhead as valiantly as ever, little morsels of cosmic wonder to ignite the sky of the northwoods. To stare upon this sight, to see its wonder, is a treasure too often forgotten and too seldom seen. Many see the night sky but few people truly see the night sky, look up and stare in amazement at the celestial bodies that are there every night. No one can comprehend the magnitude of these spaces beyond the earth, it is too enormous to fully grasp. And still some say, “There is no God”, that the existence of God is an illogical thought. But I question, “Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion? Can you lead forth the Mazzaroth in their season, or can you guide the Bear with its children? Do you know the ordinances of the heavens? Can you establish their rule on the earth?” (Job 38:31-33). Perhaps some need spend more time in the forest and wilderness, gazing at the night sky, to have their eyes opened to the splendor of nature that comes from the hand of the Almighty.”
–An excerpt from my personal journal on September 10, 2013 while on a 17 day canoeing trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in Northern Minnesota