Heaven on earth, Lake Vermilion, Minnesota.
North Dakota has its badlands, Utah has the Goblin Valley, Montana has Yellowstone and California has the Sierra national forest, but the lakes of Minnesota top them all in my opinion.
F. Scott Fitzgerald and Bob Dylan hail from Minnesota and you understand why when you see this beautiful landscape. This unassuming state, inhabited by such mild-mannered people of Norwegian ancestry, is the soil in which poets are grown.
In the dying sunlight of the August sky, the water turns vermilion red and and for about an hour and half anyone who's lucky enough to be on the lake is allowed to witness this breathtaking sight.
But the thing I love most about Vermilion?
The Loons.
These statuesque waterfowl are vicious protectors of their territory and they will decimate any birds who nest near their area.
They won't hesitate to snap the heads off of baby ducks who encroach near their nesting site but their violence is forgivable because their autumn mating cry is hauntingly mesmeric to our human ears.
Loons fly south from harsher climates to find a mate for the summer. At dusk they stop fishing and begin crying.
Their mating cry, intertwined with the sound of calm lapping waters and sight of towering Birch trees resembling windswept hair, create an ambiance unparalleled by any other natural beauty.
This earthy allure, comparable to the firmament in the sky, reminds you just how truly insignificant you are. It makes you appreciate how lucky you are that God deigns to keep you on earth.
Human pretension and arrogance have no place in this natural beauty and the loon's cry is a reminder of that.
My regret? I didn't bring Emerson's "Walden Pond."
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