The air is different here: Even on this warm sunny day you can feel the coolness to it, an edge to it, as if it has come from some place far away, from some place beyond the horizon, some place where winter dreams even in the summer
The water is different here: Clear as it eddies around the rocks but even in the shallows you can sense its power, its depth, its cold power; even sedate and quiet you are aware of its strength, sleeping now but capable of a terrible strength when awakened
The rock is different here: Ancient and stained and carved by the wind and the water and time. The great rocks push up out of the water, like the backs of giant turtles, to form these islands on which we walk
The is the Georgian Bay
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