Haliburton, Ontario. It’s a
county of lakes, islands and cottages.
I’ve found that everyone I’ve
encountered here in Ontario refers to their seasonal house in the
woods/mountains/valleys as a “cottage,” even if it doesn’t fit the description
of what I would picture as a cottage. The V’s cottage is a log cabin only
accessed by using boat. On Sunday, Kristen and I loaded the kids and all our
belongings into her dad’s motorboat and glided across the lake. A square dock
greeted us, stone steps leading up to a beautiful cabin Kristen said her dad
built. The cottage’s three bedrooms are full of enough beds to sleep nine
comfortably and even more people uncomfortably.
Another family is here. The K’s
have three girls: a ten-year-old girl and eight-year-old twins. The five of the
children play together for hours. As soon as we arrived on the island the
children set about making amour out of tree bark and pipe cleaners. On Monday
we roasted hot dogs for lunch. We had the kids try to find good roasting sticks
but they began carving spears instead. They even decorated the spears with
string and pipe cleaners. Then they set about roaming through the forest,
seeking animals to kill. Unsurprisingly, they found none.
Yesterday we tried water skiing.
Using the motor boat we towed the kids one-by-one, cheering for them from the
dock as they tried to crouch on the water in the bright green skis. All the
kids succeeded, as did Val, the K’s mom. I tried to get upright in the skis but
kept ending up face down in the water, skis floating away and me blowing water
out of my nose. My arms became sore in places I didn’t even know was possible. I never succeeded in water skiing, but maybe
with some practice I will do it.
Today we took the motor boat to Blueberry
Island, a small island of rock and blueberry bushes. We all swam around it and
picked berries to eat, laying on hot rock under the morning sun to dry our wet swimsuits.
Days here are hot. In the 30
degree Celsius range. A crisp breeze blows across the water as we sit on the
dock, bringing a brief reprieve to the heat. We swim after breakfast, lunch,
and sometimes dinner. It’s practically a way of life here.
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