Change of Habitation

Ruth and Jewel and I arrived at the Cottage on the Big Lake at midday--the journey is only about 35 minutes. We made the ritual stop at the garden center for some bright annuals for the windowbox and planters.

The dogs believe the main reason we come here is to take long, long walks to the Point, followed by longer naps.

Soon as I stowed the food in the fridge and planted the bright red verbena and impatiens and fresh oregano ripped from my garden at the Lodge, we went walking.

Despite what the sign says, we move pretty fast.



This is a signal but we don't know what it means.



"Camp" is the local/regional vernacular for "lake cottage," and is usually preceded by the world "old" or "fishing" or both. This impressive boulder marks a neighbour's drive.



We, too, call our cottage "Camp." Probably ours wasn't built as early as 1907, but we aren't absolutely sure. It definitely started its life as a fishing camp. And it's certainly old.

Somewhere in our neighbourhood, a pirate is running around without his hat!



Ruth and Jewel waste no time opening the swimming season.



When we return home, we head down to the dock.



While I enjoy the view of the "front yard," they wonder why there are little flowers where last summer's blueberries used to be.



The cottage smells of lily-of-the-valley, because I brought along the loads I picked this morning. While doing so, I spotted the very first rose bud!