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“This couldn’t be just a lake. No real water was ever blue like that. A light breeze stirred the pin-cherry tree beside the window, ruffled the feathers of a fat sea gull promenading on the pink rocks below. The breeze was full of evergreen spice.”
― Dorothy Maywood Bird, Mystery at Laughing Water

“I'd have sunk in the car if Marcus Jetty hadn't been doing a little late-season beachcombing. Marcus runs Greenstone Salvage and Tinker, a famous local eyesore of bike frames, tube amps, hula poppers, oil drums, and knobs of driftwood. He was picking along the jagged strand in his raincoat, eye on a fat cork from somebody's herring net, when a car approached on the highway above. He later described the sounds of a whining V6 and thumping bass line before the barrier burst to shrapnel and the world for a moment muffled itself.”
― Leif Enger, Virgil Wander

“We wolves will forever be in this land, for our spirits run heavy in this place. We are made of the very earth of this land.

Our spirits are the moon over the lake, of the vapor of the breaths when we run hard through fields on cold fall nights with the stars all above and around us and shining off the perfect calm of the water. Our spirit is when we are tracking deer on cold winter days, of the chase and the precise timing of the kill, and then sleeping curled together for warmth in deep snow, mouths covered in fresh, dried blood from our feasting. Our spirit is of the dark and wind and perfect stillness before a summer storm and the sounds of slow, rolling thunder off the lake, echoing through the trees. Our spirit is the smell of wet grass and wildflowers, and all the bright colors of the land and water and sky.”
― Thomas D. Peacock, The Wolf's Trail: An Ojibwe Story, Told by Wolves

“I saw that I had forgotten how beautiful the drive to Thunder Bay was; the towering sighing groves of fragrant Norway pines, the broad expanses of clean white sand, the sea gulls, always the endlessly wheeling sea gulls; an occasional bald eagle seeming bent on soaring straight up to heaven; the intermittent craggy and pine-clad granite or sandstone hills, sometimes rising gauntly to the dignity of small mountains, then again, sudden stretches of sand or more majestic Norway pines -- and always, of course, the vast glittering heaving lake, the world's largest inland sea, as treacherous and deceitful as a spurned woman, either caressing or raging at the shore, more often turbulent than not, but today on its best company manners, presenting the falsely placid aspect of a mill pond.”
― Robert Traver, Anatomy of a Murder

“It's funny how an ice-cream cone can change a persons life."
Mosie Bitmen~ Dog Island”
― ann m. andrashie, Dog Island

“Aki, with a sharp intake of breath, found herself stepping forward, drawn to the pit as if by some ancestral magnetism. Beside her, the others mirrored her actions, their gasps creating a symphony of awe that filled the clearing. They stood at the brink, peering down, their eyes wide, their mouths open, their faces reflecting a mixture of reverence and wonder. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath—the sounds of the forest stilled, the leaves of the trees pausing in their rustling whispers, even the air itself waiting in hushed anticipation. Then, as if the pause were too profound to last, the forest sounds returned, but the onlookers remained motionless, transfixed. Aki's heart raced as she reached out tentatively, her fingers hovering just above the copper, feeling the warmth that radiated from it. It was not just metal; it was a piece of history, a fragment of the earth's untold story.”
― David Pompeani, Great Water: The Lost Mines of Lake Superior

“The ends of the canoe arc upwards towards the sky, like opposing axe blades cutting through the water. The tips are bound tightly together with spruce roots and sealed with black pine tar, casting an impressive U-shaped shadow across the water in the evening sun.”
― David Pompeani, Great Water: The Lost Mines of Lake Superior