cottage life
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
We've settled into the cottage, and life is good. The cottage is on an excellent site; it's a bend in a creek that cascades down a short set of rapids between a dammed lakes and a smaller pond. The creek bend passes through a lush reedy broad area as it enters the pond, so we've got a view of seeming unspoiled Ontario.
The property is a semi-developed patch where a government launch was built along with a dam as part of the infrastructure for the Trent-Severn system. It seems to me that we're well North of that canal system itself, but that's what the sign on the dam says so who am I to argue.
The cottage itself is a newish one, with two bedrooms and a large open upper section with a pullout bed that can sleep and additional party. The kitchen has one of those fancy "butcher's blocks" that seem to be fashionable these days, with wood that has clearly been salvaged from some older use (replete with old burns and dents and knife marks) and a system of hanging hooks and rails from which dangle all of the pots and tongs and other utensils. The deck is a few steps from the creek.
Our first night was spent 'round the fire pit, naturally, and we were treated to the largest firefly "show" I've ever seen. There were a couple of hundred of the things flitting about the sweep of the creek, some of which were practically an arm's length from us. Under a pitch black sky (not even any reflected lights from nearby towns) and with the only noise the babble of the rapids it was hard to stay awake, and we made an early night of it.
So this morning I was up at dawn, and decided to go for a chilly cycle trip into 'Deer Lake' (I think, it's just a cross roads and all of the names of these places are the same). The highlands aren't really all that high, but they certainly are hilly, and when I crested one hill and found a side road I decided against simply charging down the other side only to face another hill. Taking the side road, I toodled along a finger of land that stuck into Lake Idunno, and was startled to... well... startle a bear.
It had been eating berries next to the road when I quietly pedalled along, and must have been pretty shocked when it suddenly noticed me. If it had simply crouched down and stayed quiet I would never have seen it. But bears aren't subtle creatures (bless them) and it went thrashing away madly to disappear over a small rise in the woods.
Deciding that the bicycle wouldn't provide much help should the bear regroup and take issue with my presence, I decided to turn around and head into town.
We've brought Tracey's bike up, and while it needs repairs (new tires and tubes, oil for its chain) it seems that she'll be able to do the trip without much difficulty (as long as she stays out of the side trips in the early hours, heh**).
**Tracey's early hours are what many of us traditionally consider brunch hours. She's as much a night owl as my mother and likes to sleep in as much as my aunt Laurie (a trait that always amazed me when she - Laurie - would stay with us when I was a little boy).