My Arrowhead

About two hours up Highway 11, and about fifteen years back in time, I find my personal version of Arrowhead Park, quietly unaware of today’s crowds, tucked comfortably away from real time. The colours are tasteful, the critters are cute, and the stars wheel in the sky in a most predictable way.

Here are some photographs of then, if not now, of a place which became a feeling after the place itself had moved on.