Wilderness sounds would be here, bird songs in the mornings and at dusk. The aspen leaves would whisper and the pines as well, and in the sound of water and wind I would hear all that is worth listening for. I would come in all seasons, when the first buds of spring were painting the hillsides, when the sounds of summer made it seem as though the woods were pulsating with life, I would be here in the autumns watching the pageantry of color, in the winter when the lake was frozen and still and the point deep with snow. I would come to listen and feel and to recapture for a little while the old joys I had known.
I named this place Listening Point because only when one comes to listen, only when one is aware and still, can things be seen and heard. Everyone has a listening-point somewhere. It does not have to be in the north or close to the wilderness, but some place of quiet where the universe can be contemplated with awe.
Sigurd F. Olson, Listening Point (1958)