"Somewhere deep in the north woods lies a bay, teeming with fish all year round. Our fisherman's faithful campanion still likes to haunt the area long after his master is gone. Winter roars in with a vengeance and days spent like this were always looked upon as a challenge. It was all part of the joy of catching one's own fresh fish for supper. Now just the distant glow of an early winter's eve across the frozen bay reminds us of the warmth that once lingered from inside this old fish hut. Indeed, one yearns for the simple life where time seemed to know no beginning nor end …"

- James Lumbers