What you probably thought I was going to talk about is s’mores by the campfire or jumping off rocks into the lake (okay, I’ve never done this but people much, much, braver than I have) or staying up late (or getting up early) to see the Perseids meteor shower or complaining about the neighbours across […]
I was planning on writing about something else today, but since it’s Canada Day, what better to talk about than life at the cottage. The Monarch butterflies are back. They are my excuse for letting the milkweed run rampant near the septic bed. Milkweed should, of course, be entitled to aid and abet butterflies with
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The minute the hummingbird feeder went up, I had customers, and it appears they are the same assholes as last year, chasing each other away even though there is more than enough to go around. Luckily, the racoons (the other assholes) have not yet made an appearance, so the feeder has remained unmolested. I am
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The first task when opening the cottage is to assess the damage, both physical and financial. This proceeds in a logical order, starting with arriving at the dock at the bottom of the hill. This year, the dock made it through the winter unscathed. If you are unfamiliar with how lake winters work, this might
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This is the time of year I usually refer to as “the southbound march of the condiments.” Not this year. I have decided to reconsider my cottage closing tactics. Perhaps forever. Do you know what happens when the bottles and jars that survived the summer arrive in my winter kitchen? Yes, you do. They play
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The hummingbirds are acting like assholes. There are three of them that swoop around chasing each other away from the feeder whenever one of them decides it’s time for a snack. Apparently, this means they are getting ready to start migrating. I’m not sure how well that will turn out, since they seem to be
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I am pretty sure I have mentioned this before, but I am a magazine-aholic. I currently subscribe to six magazines: Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, Bon Appetit, The Walrus, Cottage Life, and Toronto Life. I also get the Report on Business every month via my Globe and Mail newspaper subscription, bonus issues of Fashion (useless)
Like many of my cohort, I am in deep denial with respect to my chronological age. In my head, I am in my early forties, officially grownup but still able to stay out way too late on a school night without dire consequences. The money the government sends me every month tells a different story.
The Buicks have emerged from their winter slumber. The ones that live under the dock sun themselves with smug entitlement but startle and slip between the boards when I stomp my feet to gain a spider-free walkway to the swim ladder. I am not sure where the fuzzy dinner-plate-sized specimen that hangs out between the
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Contrary to popular belief, May is actually the cruelest month. Even though other months may be implicated, when the ice goes out and it is possible to get to the cottage, it is strictly May’s purview to reveal what winter’s months have wrought. Luckily this year, after the water pump went into the lake, there
