I am in the process of listing a number of pieces of vacant land near a northern lake .
Each is unique and wild and beautiful. One has a granite ridge that looks out over a small tranquil harbour on the lake. Two of them have very large ponds that I would be comfortable calling small lakes. On one of them a number of dead elms are in the centre of the pond and a heronry can be found.
The smallest one of the 5 is a magical, tucked away triangle with it's own gentle series of waterfalls cascading down the granite ridges. What is it worth to sit on your stone patio at the end of a stressful week and gaze dreamily at the trickles of water and little whitecaps, the sounds reaching through to your soul and soothing all the sorrows of the world from your aching being ?
These are magical pieces of land. Filled with earth sprites and glimmering greens of dancing, white birch branches and the rustle of old oaks.
The scent of pine and moss infuses your being as you sit on your patio. Easing back into your old lounge chair, you begin to drift away.
An oriole sings from a distant elm top. A loon calls to it's mate across the lake in the distance. All is right with the world here.
I have often thought of the steadily growing numbers of people, including children, who are prescribed anti-depressants in today's society. I have wondered and wondered why depression is on the increase in such massive numbers.
Then I remember, we have lost touch with the natural world.
Our souls cry out in thirst on city streets and grasp what flits and glimpses of nature they can from what the city has to offer . It isn't much.
We plant roof-top and balcony gardens. We sit in the evening and gaze across the cityscape through the smog of ten thousand daily commutes and our eyes rest on the soft peach glow of the clouds in the distance . The sun is setting for another day.
Tomorrow it will all begin again. For now, I must get back to putting a price on a waterfall.
JoSmith
