On Earth Day, I really like the image of the next generation, growing up in nature under the shelter of elders.
St. Lawrence University’s Camp Canaras is a heterogeneous collection of cabins along the shore of Saranac Lake. Among them, this particular building’s stack of individually glazed windows and roofs at odd angles most reminds me of Howl’s Moving Castle.
I mentioned in Monday’s post that I find structures built over water to be oddly cozy, and this dock and boathouse on a rainy late spring evening conveys the same kind of feeling.
The “S.L.U.” on this life preserver is a good reminder that St. Lawrence University runs Camp Canaras. Still, I’m not sure it was too necessary on this chilly spring night—Lake Saranac was not overly populated.
The little sailboats might have been in the water of Saranac Lake in the late spring, but the Adirondack weather was not convincing anyone to head out into the evening with one.
Glowing embers rising from the chimney of a cozy cabin may look charming, but I can’t recommend it. Cabins tend to be less cozy when the roof is on fire.
The temperature is rising and ice is melting and after the gritty, dirty snow finally vanishes, spring will come to the Adirondacks.
There’s a warm comfort to a camp office, center of order and structure, on a cold early summer evening.
Fall may have officially begun, but the warm weather seems to contradict the calendar. I’m left wondering… When will the boats be pulled out and never returned to the lakes of the Adirondacks in 2019?
Is there any better place to be at the end of June than the Adirondacks? A soft carpet of moss and pine needles, a smooth varnished wood bench, and a evening view of Saranac Lake makes a great combination.
Saranac Lake is chock full of islands—including this big one and its tiny brother to the left.
Settling into a camp cabin on an early summer’s rainy evening reaches maximum coziness. Though I have captured images of Camp Canaras before, those were typically exterior shots, rather than the charming interiors of its cabins.
Today’s guest post is an image by Lee Sullivan, taken on her way home from hockey practice.
Far north, spring comes late but brings Bob-Ross-ian scenes with it. This particular landscape in Tupper Lake has been a frequent favorite of mine; I’ve watched it change over the years as the currents shift the islands around.
This quiet winter evening (Christmas day, as it turns out) presented a delicate mirroring between sky and earth, broken by the presence of a single buoy.