Okay, to be fair, there are many things I don’t get. Like why there are so many delays on the Toronto subway, why it always rains on the weekend, and why celery costs so much. But this is what’s in my crosshairs at the moment: why do the photos of Ontario cottage renos or new builds (I’m looking at you, Cottage Life and anything to do with Colin and Justin…) never hint at any bugs or spiders or outdoor (or indoor) perils in general? WTAF?
These properties typically feature:
- A showroom’s worth of outdoor furniture on a 3,000 square foot deck, usually sprawling sectionals with white (white!!!) upholstery that does not look like it would survive a light afternoon shower, let alone an onslaught of horizontal rain screaming across Georgian Bay.
- Floor to ceiling windows that must have magic powers to instantly dispatch any bugs with designs on committing harikari, immediately incinerate husks of prenatal dragonflies, and repel layers of tree pollen.
- A cedar strip canoe propped up against the side of a shed, with an interior that apparently has never housed a family of spiders, or for that matter, ever been in the water.
- The aforementioned shed likely has charming gingerbread curlicues and finals on the eaves, which are painted bright purple, the better to see the bird poop that is bound to show up sooner rather than later.
- A gleaming, pristine kitchen kitted out with high-end appliances that pretend they would defy any thought of a mouse nest living in the stove.
As we all know, this is the reality:
- A constant parade of ants (microscopic and otherwise) across the countertops (granite, quartz, marble or not – no discrimination here…) during ant season, which seems to schedule itself by the lunar calendar and hence is impossible to predict or pre-empt.
- Carcasses of May flies glued to the windows, long after their three-day spree of life on earth has come to an end.
- Yellow pollen carpeting the surface of everything during pollen season (at least kind of predictable), including the sensible brown covers of the porch furniture pillows, the surface of the dock and decks, and the seat of your (white!!! What were you thinking?) shorts if you happen to plant your rear anywhere at all.
- A plastic kayak caked in mud from the most recent rainstorm (see above re horizontal precipitation), which could benefit from a good power wash, if only the power washer did not have a huge leak in the water line that definitely did not exist last year.
- A beer fridge that worked perfectly fine last fall but now seems to be dead on spring arrival, and also inexplicably contains a bag of last year’s potatoes, something it’s impossible to un-smell.
But as they say, owning a cottage is not for sissies and, in my opinion, the most non-sissy of sissies is those of us who are boat-in cottagers. So onward we go to opening up. The boat motor may or may not work. Something will be broken beyond repair. The hummingbirds will return and so shall we. Bowed but not broken from our winter’s hiatus. Bring it on.