i remember a cluster of three lakes that my dad and i would visit that were like a chain of beautiful worlds, each one composed of new shapes and mysteries; each one an independent ecosystem and yet bound to the other in some way ancient. dad called them the three sisters. to get from one lake to another, we'd have to find the overland paths that connected them and portage - literally carry our canoe and gear through the woods - to the next lake. once, in the farthest reaches of the smallest sister, i hooked a big fish with my then favorite lure but after a brief fight, the line snapped and the fish and the lure were gone. losing that lure was a tragedy at the time but now i enjoy the thought that it is still there, resting in those clear, cold waters.
