Blueroof Farm — a patch of brilliant blue in the winter white — is hidden by the green leaves of summer and complemented by the corn yellow of the birches and tamaracks in fall. A place where spotted dogs run free over wide and rolling pastures and sleep in the winter in the sun-flooded windowsills. In spring frogs thrive in the ponds where children discover tadpoles and a variety of minnows and when darkness comes watch fireflies and hear the whipperwhill call as they discover moths on the screen door.

In the maple woods and amongst the hemlocks along the river the spirits of the past are felt: those of the native, or first Canadians, who lived loved and died beside the river and those of the pioneers and river drivers who are buried beneath the hemlocks and maples. Blueroof Farm was created by an artist for her large family, and, after they had spread out across North America, as a place for visitors to come from all over the world.