100 years ago this April, Tom Thomson boarded a train from Toronto, headed for Algonquin Park. “[H]ave not sold many sketches but think I can manage to get along for another year at least. I will stick to painting as long as I can,” he wrote his father. He was 40 years old and was coming into the height of his power as an interpreter of the Canadian landscape. He died at Canoe Lake under mysterious circumstances that July, leaving behind a collection of final sketches on “boards” that still taunt us with questions about what masterworks were left to come and what happened to their creator. This song is our tribute to Tom, a true northern light.