Beauty in Transition

Living in a country with four seasons has taught me to appreciate change and find the beauty and opportunity in transition. The splendour of the autumn foliage is the opening act for the blustery winter to come. It takes summer out on a high note and leaves us wanting when it finally recedes and all that remains are stark, naked trees and the gray chill of November.

If we take our queue from nature, we could trust the transitional periods in our lives that may be tumultuous and even painful, knowing that it's something that we have to go through to get through it.

So for now we celebrate each precious remaining sunny, autumn day with long walks immersed in golden and fallen leaves and deep blue skies; and give silent thanks for the gifts that come with change.

Easing into Wonderful

Last summer fling

Three weeks into our life on an unpaved sideroad -- in a century-old schoolhouse - and it is finally feeling like home, and not like I'm waking up in a cosy bed and breakfast. There is still much to explore around the property and endless images to capture. Work on the natural swimming pond will be starting soon and with any luck - we'll be skating on it by Christmas.

But in the meantime we will have to dig out our tall rubber boots and be prepared to navigate the muddy mess that will be ours on the journey to our landscape wonder. No pain - no gain.

This weekend Hubby made some amazing progress on the painting, with the help of his bestie. The livingroom that was shrouded in early dungeonesque decor has been transported from dark and dingy to lightness and bright! There is still much to do, and in the coming months I will remind myself to cherish each and every moment. I am easing into wonderful, and for that - I couldn't be more grateful. 

Some reasons for my happy...

Secret canopy in wait of a hammock.

Snow apple anyone? The yard smells like a cider house.

Wetlands beauty

The edge of the property...into cornfield territory.

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.

Body and Soul

I walk briskly down the sidewalk, quickening my pace with every step. I start to run, picking a telephone pole at the end of the block as my target. I'm alone with my thoughts and the rhythm of my runners pounding the pavement. I'm out of shape. First clue - the heaving of my chest and private negotiations with self to stop running before I reach the pole.

I alternate between brisk walking and running -- and sometimes a geriatric jog. I return the comments from the cast of characters that line the route with breathless smiles and pants. I reach the path in the park and disappear into the thick fringe of greenery. My shoulders immediately drop and relaxation creeps in. My body switches to autopilot and my mind soars. No earbuds here... I soak up every sound - birds singing, the train rolling by on the other side of the chain link fence, a dog barking in the distance, me humming John Denver tunes. It's the natural soundtrack that I prefer but I've probably caused a bird a wince or two.

It's special - this noon hour time I carve out for myself to break free of my office and move my body. I replay memory gems, reflect on challenges I'm facing in my job, release that over which I have no control, dream endless dreams, and give silent prayers of gratitude.

Lunchtime nourishment for my body and soul.

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.

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.

West Coast Welcome, Reunion, Revelation

I wandered, meandered to the other side of the country. It was for work, but first - pleasure. I reunited with my far away cousin and her kidlet on the breathtakingly, beautiful west coast of Canada.

It had been almost five years since I last saw Cuz - and even then, it was my first time meeting her in person. Funny enough, she felt familiar to me; our kinship was easy and natural. Maybe it was our same age (we were born a few months apart), the fact that we both named our daughters Darcy or that our parents were sibs -- whatever the reasons, there was just something that bound us soulfully. We built our friendship over the phone and by sharing playful emails and messages. She lamented that none of the extended family had ever made it out to see her in her digs, her own environment. She is anxious to share and this past weekend, I was fortunate enough to accept her warm hospitality.

She and her kidlet picked me up and the airport and gave me the grand driving tour. We talked excitedly - a strong family trait - as she drove the curves and contours of the coastline. Occasionally kidlet nudged a word in from the back seat.

We walked the pier and the environmental sanctuary across from her home. The warm sunshine and floral-scented wisps were a welcomed respite from the harsh winter we are still dueling in my part of the country. Blossoms dripped from heavy tree limbs and the landscape was smeared with the glory and colour of springtime. Sea air mingled with fresh pristine air. I inhaled deeply and exhaled stress and the toxins of overload.

Her home is a picture perfect ginger bread cottage. The remnants of home baking greeted us when we burst through the door. The lemon loaves and rhubarb-apple pie were irresistible, and deeply satisfying. Comfort food for comforting times. Her brother and his wife joined us for a visit later in the evening. We swapped memories and other chit chat but stopped short of politics.

I eased back in my big comfy chair and took a mental picture to preserve the moment. I reveled in the peace and contentment I felt. I wondered what her mother would think of us finding one another. Family is funny like that... it's embedded in our DNA and if we let it, we can feel the pull to congregate and spend time together. My take away or revelation -- just how incredibly blessed we are to belong to something bigger than all of us; and the love that is there to be shared - if we so choose.

Here are some images from my west coast weekend, and in respect for her privacy, I have not included the shots of my beautiful cousin and her kidlet. The pictures took themselves...

Thanks Cuz.

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.