There and Back Again

Cuppa and I surprised ourselves a little bit yesterday. We drove to the cottage to pick up stuff that we couldn't fit in the car after our extended-family vacation in August because the vehicle was too full of people. We went with our options open: return on the same day; stay overnight; or spend the weekend there. In our heads, option two, overnighting, was what we most expected to do. But with the weather being cold and windy, and comfortable beds at home awaiting, we hit the road home as soon as we loaded up Harriet the Chariot.

It was a good day for a drive, however. For most of the way, both coming and going, there was sun which lit up the tamaracks rather gloriously. And despite the fact that all of the other leaves had fallen, the oaks were still adamant about holding onto their bronze beauties. The drive home was especially pretty as the lowering sun cast the just the right angle of light.

On the way there, however, we saw a first — or two first, rather. We drove the extremely rural backroads, and at one point, I exclaimed to Cuppa that there was a fox trotting across the road up ahead. As we drew nearer, we saw that it was larger and darker and concluded that it was a wolf. Lightning struck a second time a little bit later. This time we got a closer look and decided that this was a coyote.

I suppose we could have been wrong both times, and they could have been regular run-of-the-mill dogs, but, given the backwoodsiness of the geography, neither of us really believe that. Both of these sightings are extremely rare; in fact, having never seen either before, it seems almost miraculously serendipitous as well as synchronous to witness both.

This morning, however, nature's other shoe dropped as we awoke to the season's first snowfall. Yes, it snowed overnight: so lightly that it could only be seen on bare rooftops and not the ground. Nevertheless, it was snow. Sigh: it could be a long winter.

Of Campfires and Reunions

For those of us with decaying brains and fading memory, computers can be a blessing. With a few easy mouse clicks we are able to peek back into the past. I had cause to peruse some old blogs today; it was a nice trip which I should think to make more often. So, when I was looking for a photo for today's post, I also slipped into the past: not long past, just last June, with the proviso that the grandkids would not be the subject for a change.

I had forgotten for the time being that the A Team had come home for a brief visit and that after spending some time here, we had also met for a brief visit at the cottage. We sat by the campfire that night, chatted and experimented with a few night photos.

This one, two blended photos really, is of my daughter, Althegal and the campfire.

By the Campfire

The A Team will be coming home again near the end of August, and we will again convene at the cottage with as many family members as possible. I think we're all looking forward to it. I know I am.

A Magical Snowy Christmas

We now have a wee bit of snow on the ground with, perhaps, a dumper coming tomorrow morning. It's arriving a little late this year — late for this area at least. This will be our fifth winter here in Eastern Ontario, and in other years we've had snow by now: sometimes quite a lot. I don't mind the snow, but I also don't mind that it has taken its sweet time getting here this year as it might feel shorter on the back end when it tends to overstays its welcome.

Snow at this time of year takes me back to a Magical Snowy Christmas five years ago. At that time, we still lived in Sarnia at the southwestern edge of the province, about a seven hour+ drive to Ottawa. It was about a week later than it is now when we drove partway to Eastern Ontario before stopping at the cottage. We intended to stay there for a week or so and enjoy a winter holiday before continuing the journey. Sarnia is almost as far south as you can go in Canada, and it isn't terribly cold or snowy (in Canadian terms understand), so we looked forward to enjoying a more wintry time at the cottage. We were not to be disappointed.



Once we were within about an hour of the cottage we began to notice some accumulation, which seemed to grow deeper and deeper the closer we came to our destination. The cottage region had received a significant snowfall over the previous night, and let me assure you that freshly fallen snow in the woods is, indeed, magically delightful. So, it was upon recalling that winter, I perused my archives, found the above photo of Cuppa in the snowy woods a few days ago and set it as the background wallpaper on my computer. Since I still can't stop thinking about it, I thought I'd share it with you too.

We had a lot of fun that week, even when Cuppa lost her snowshoe and got stuck in the drift along the riverbank. She required assistance, but I took enough time to get this photo before helping my lady in distress.



It was a memorable winter retreat that year, which we've never managed to duplicate. Perhaps, I will post some further recollections in the coming days.

Tenting to Escape the Mice

(2. Slept under the stars ... not quite ... part 2)

In continuing my version of the meme that I started in my previous post, I have another tenting experience to relate. I have to say "tenting" because it wasn't camping as such. It occurred more than twenty-five years ago, about a year after my close encounters with the mice, and, once again, it put me close to being under the stars. As with the previous post about camping in Algonquin Park, I thought that I had blogged about this before, but, once again, I can't find it. However, Cuppa related much of the hilarious background story in full detail in Mouse in the House.

My condensed version: mice were always a problem in Cuppa's parents cottage, which really should be called a cabin ... or shack. It was a primitive place with no plumbing. We'd go into town, which wasn't a town at all but just a tiny hamlet, with jugs to obtain drinking water, and we'd wash up in creek water, which was pretty clean but not potable. Both we and the kids were young, and we had a great time roughing it. But, as I said, the mice were always lurking ... which was okay as long as they left us alone. Well, I shouldn't say, "Okay," but we tolerated the situation in order to enjoy the general setting of a cabin in the forest by a lovely creek with a wonderful, little waterfall.

However, on one fateful night, I awoke to something crawling around in my pajamas, whereupon I leapt out of bed, slammed my legs against the door jamb on my wildly hysterical exit from the bedroom while rending my pajama top in a frenzy of terror. (You really should read Cuppa's full narrative.) My feelings for the place were never quite the same after that incident, but we did return the following summer — with our trusty tent this time.

You see, it was still a great spot, but none of us (meaning me, the chicken-livered one to whom they were most attracted) really wanted to share our beds with the mice, so we slept in the tent. We'd use the cottage/cabin during the day and do all of the holiday-ey, cottagy things that one does on vacation: basically laze, swim, read, and eat. However, come bedtime, the four of us would head out to our rodent-free tent and sleep blissfully, once again almost under the stars.

I slept much better not having to worry about trespassers in my jamies.