Slow Time

If all goes according plan, our lazy weekends at the cottage are numbered. But for right now - it is still ours to enjoy. We drove the three hours Saturday morning; Friday night after a very l o n g   work week would have felt rushed.

On the drive up north, I glanced up from my book occasionally and snapped my mental shots for posterity of the very familiar landmarks and roadside sights. The rugged, raw beauty of the steep granite rocks that flank the highway seem ed to usher us along on our way to our little piece of paradise. I wondered how many times more I would take this drive.

Saturday was a chilly overcast day - dead quiet on the lake. Hubby and I slipped our hoods (that's why we call it a hoodie) over our heads to keep the black flies at bay and headed for the dock. With not a neighbour in sight, the illusion of being the only ones on the lake was complete. We leaned back in the Muskoka chairs, legs stretched out and quietly reminisced.  The lake had delivered every hope and dream that we'd had when we bought it. Now we must let it go to make room for another dream. The chill in the air meant a fire was in order and Hubby stoked the flames until we turned in.

We awoke to the sunshine flooding the room. The weather was nothing short of perfection - clear blue sky, brilliant sunshine and 25 C temps. A gift. Perfection. And a first -- the first dip of the season in the frigid lake.

It's funny - minutes tick by slower; colours are more vibrant; songbirds provide the soundtrack; life is good at the cottage. Nature is a balm for the soul and a day at the cottage is like a mini va-cay. It occurred to me that we have to find a way to recreate the tranquility of the lake when we are away from it. To slow it down a bit. There are the same 24 hours in a day - whether here or there; the trick is to be in the moment, to be mindful of my surroundings, to drink it all in with all of my senses, and to take pleasure in living fully in the present. Slow time. That will be my new speed. And for all the time I've had immersed in nature, I am truly grateful.

Dreamchanger

Five years ago Hubby and I went out on a limb; make a snap decision; and boldly bought a rustic cottage on a tranquil lake (that means alot to both of us) -- without even stepping foot inside. It was perfect for us, and we knew it instantly. After visiting the bank for suggestions on how to buy a cottage with no cash, and after three days of it being listed, we owned our dream pursuit.

Over the past five years we enjoyed every moment we spent in the cosy cottage, inhaling the kind of peace that only comes with being immersed in nature, swimming in the pristine lake and cherishing those quiet moments that inspire creativity.

But Hubby and I want something more; we want our tranquility to last past the weekend and we want to fall asleep and wake up to a chorus of birds chirping and crickets singing. We want to live in the country. So this weekend we listed our beloved Falconridge. And as if in support of our difficult decision, we were blessed with one of the most private and peaceful weekends we have had in two years. It was truly special and just want we needed. We worked hard to get the place in shape for showing. Hubby exhibited his Herculean strength in lifting the dock ramp and connecting it to the dock, and lugging the Muskoka chairs and canoes down to the lake. He admitted that he was grateful that this would be the last time he had to do it.

Then we exhaled. We reminisced about the wonderful, special times we'd shared at the cottage and then turned our focus to the future. It will be hard to let go of something so special, that had become a part of us, but we both agree - there is something exciting for us in the future. A new dream. And the pursuit of that dream will be thrilling and invigorating, just like all the rest. And that is what makes life so rich and wonderful. Life is good.

And for that, I am truly grateful.

Path Less Travelled

It was intended to be a long walk in the fresh air down our cottage road. In mid September, the cottage season is all but ended and we stubbornly cling to the last precious remnants. It had rained relentlessly through the night before, leaving the ground spongy and muddy. We trampled along with Fritz the yappy schnauzer, accompanied by the chorus of song from far away tree tops.

We made a left turn up a gravel road leading to the other lake and followed it until it ended at a private property - "no trespassing" - and a pathway veering off into the woods.

With nothing but chill and damp waiting for us back at the cabin, we plunged into the forest, carefully picking our way over fallen branches and pools of rainwater. The weeks of moisture had rendered the foliage of the forest  a brilliant sheen of green, and shocks of colour poked through the bed of crispy brown leaves.

For more than an hour we navigated the roughly marked trails, changing direction on a whim, exploring where our curiosity led us, eventually crawling under a locked metal gate to find ourselves on the road to our camp.

It's incredible what you notice when left without distraction to the quiet and tranquility of nature; what exquisite beauty is there for discovery - and adventure - when you choose the path less traveled.

We both agreed; it is a path we are going to choose more often.

Mystical Meanderings

Car packed, we took our hopes for good weather and headed north. A stack of black nasty clouds did not deter and we pushed through one of the most spectacular lightning storms I've ever experienced. Waiting for us on the other side was perfection; a simply perfect fall weekend at the lake.

We ate our lunch on the deck immersed in nature as crispy brown leaves floated gently down around us. The eagle soared high in the sky and chubby little chipmunks scurried about nervously, stashing last chance stores.

In the wee early hours in the morning I grabbed my camera and headed down the steep pathway to the dock. The mist was rolling off the lake. Everything was blanketed in morning dew and brilliant sunshine illuminated the intricate laceworks of the dock spiders. Mystical morning, and for a fleeting moment I was a solitary soul amongst the breathtaking. I inhaled deeply and leaning back on my hands, tilted my head upwards to feel the kiss of morning light on my face.

The quaint country fair with fiddle music, goats and hand cut fries rounded out the weekend.

Precious time spent with the one I love, in a heavenly setting; nature's cathedral, and for this respite, I am so very grateful.

Winding Down

It was better than expected.
Nature's soothing balm for the soul.
From brittle stark, fresh tender buds of brilliant green emerge, slowly unfurling to face the sun.
A simple reminder that life begins anew; opportunities abound.

Message received. And as this weekend, the first vacation of the season, slowly recoils and winds down, I also wind down, grateful for the rest, ready to face all that awaits. Another week of living fully, and in the moment.

And I whisper a quiet prayer of thanks.

Prelude to Summer

What a difference a week can make. When we were up at the cottage last weekend the landscape was dull and beige with not a hint of green in sight, nothing - with the exception of the evergreen trees. It was as though springtime was in hiding, camouflaged as November.

With the first long weekend upon us, the weather forecast was not promising with very cool temperatures and high probability of rain expected. Hubby and I debated whether we should stay or go north to  the cottage. We both needed a respite from busytown and threw caution to the wind.

To our disbelief the highways, typically jammed on a Friday of the long weekend (or any Friday for that matter), were free and clear. We soared unencumbered to our place of peace.

The first night was a frosty 3 degrees Celsius - and that was inside! We plugged in the heater and stoked the fire and with the help of my wool socks and fleece, I finally got warmed up.

Saturday was a little cloudy and chilly but by late afternoon the sky cleared and it warmed up. Today was spectacular. The lake sparkled like a bedazzled blanket of blue and the sun shone all day high in the cloudless sky. Even the buds on the trees were coaxed out of hiding, and by the end of the day, you couldn't help but notice the greenery showing through. We ate our dinner out on our deck as the blue jays, chickadees and other birds and squirrels serenaded us. The lake was quiet, devoid of the usual cottagers.

Hubby and I took a drive into the nearby village of Magnetawan and gave Fritz a stroll. With the area having a harsh winter of frigid temps and over seven feet of snow, the water levels are high wherever we look. Rivers run freely over the dams crashing into already saturated lakes. Boat houses sit low in the water and trees stand in ponds. I snapped a few shots to share. Hopefully over the next month or two the water levels will reside and the trees can recover.

We are so fortunate to have this retreat, this chance to commune with nature and be inspired by its glory. All in all it was indeed a peaceful weekend and an exciting prelude to the summer ahead.

Weekend to Remember

Yesterday was "opening day" at the cottage. The residuals of an exceptionally long, bitterly cold winter were everywhere: heaps of tree branches and dead leaves on the deck, a few downed birch trees laid out like fallen soldiers, and shades of grey and beige draping the vistas. There wasn't a glimpse of green anywhere to be found... not a bud or hint of leaf.

Hubby dropped the water lines in and did battle with the pump to coax water into the taps and toilet. If that wasn't fun enough, Hubby wrestled with the dock and 300 lb ramp to get us afloat and the canoe nicely secured. The only thing missing to complete the picture were our red Muskoka chairs.

I dodged the cool grey of outside by making up the beds and restoring the coziness of our rustic little cabin. We wrapped up our mission to open our cottage in advance of the upcoming long weekend in short order and then headed home, up the stark laneway and down the highway to the city. Until next weekend...

Today was brilliant! The sun shone high in the blue skies and the girls came home to spend Mother's Day with me. They came wearing wide smiles and bearing baked goods. Nutrition and moderation went out the window as I "sampled".

Some Mother's Days have been better than others... sometimes I get mired in the missing of my own precious mother and I can barely muster a smile. But the past few years have been better. My love for and appreciation of my girls has been larger than my grief. And it feels good.

It's been a weekend to remember, as well as a good reminder of the riches in my life and the good things to come. I hope you all had some sunshine today.

The Fall

Whoosh! Thanksgiving has come and gone - country fair and famjams and all; our cottage is closed up and in an induced hibernation; and whoosh! October is almost gone before I barely flipped my calendar. Time is precious and in short supply these days. I have lots to do and lots to look forward to. But I am trying to live in the now while preparing for my trip to Tanzania. Just a few things between then and now -- root canal, some writing, some work deadlines, a few birthday celebrations...

So -- to catch up -- I'll share a few captures of my month. I hope all is well in your world and that you are finding the beauty in each day before it slips away. I'm trying - and then - whoosh!

First time using family heirloom turkey plates for the feast

At the fair, the noses had it!

Leaves were down at the cottage, signalling the "close" of the season.

The Change

What a difference a few weeks makes. We've gone from cooling off on a sunny deck to warming our frigid fingers by a blazing fire. This will be one of the last few weekends spent at our place of peace - also known as Falconridge, our summer cottage. It's been rainy and cold for most of the weekend and our electric heaters are working overtime to get the inside temperature up above 12 C.

Time to start "the close" - pull the boats out of the water, ready the docks for the ice, tuck the chairs and umbrellas under the cottage, and lastly, pull the water lines out of the lake. Summer has past and "the change" has begun. Me and the lake have that in common - we're both going through the change, albeit I'm a little farther along in the process.  My feelings are mixed as I watch the brittle birch tree leaves flutter to the ground, signalling a time to pack away our precious summertime memories and say good bye for another year.

It's also a season of great beauty, with crimson and burnt orange foliage that goes out in a blaze of glory. I always get a little flutter in my stomach when change is imminent; maybe it is the prospect of new possibilities and eager anticipation of what is to come. And so I will soak up these last few hours at the lake and look to the adventures that lay before me. I have lots to look forward to, and even more to appreciate.

Here are some captures from our wet autumn weekend at the lake for your viewing pleasure.

Transitions

I remember from giving birth that "transition" is the most difficult part of  ->what-is-supposedly-> the most natural of all processes. I learned that just when things in life start to change - often in the most painful of ways - and at the exact point of when you think you've reach your breaking point, your full capacity, you transition into a new paradigm. You've been tested; you endure, and you inure.

We adjust to our new reality and if we are truly adept, we embrace it and go forward stronger and with wisdom borne of experience.

So here at cottage land, in our place of peace, nature is serving up advance notice, warning signals that she is entering transition. And soon the lazy, humid days of summer will be filed under "memories 2013" and the mysterious ways Mother Earth will reveal themselves. The birch leaves will yellow and be the first to fall; they already are. The maples will don brilliant crimson and fiery orange before shedding their cloaks to stand bare and tall to face the Canadian winter.

But for this weekend, the last weekend of the summer, we will give a nod to the signals and cherish these last few days at the lake. Autumn will arrive soon enough an with it, bring its own label of stunning. There will be great beauty in this beloved season of transition, as well as a little sadness that yet another year has passed. But as with any transition, there will be more goodness and blessings to come.

Pixels of Cottage Life

Changing leaves signal the approaching end to summer....

The drive home from the cottage - leaving another weekend behind us.

Kidlet and her foster guide dog Gael.

Reunited as promised. The girls from Kenya 2010 trip together again.

Dead snake in the middle of the road.