For as long as I can
remember, going to the lake
has been part of my lifestyle
but never one involving
ownership. Rather, there was
a lake, several actually, near
our home, which could be
easily walked to and enjoyed
much like a park in the city.
My parents considered a
cottage too much work,
something where the whole
world would descend upon en
mass forcing them to
entertain. There would be
twice as much house to keep
up and constant work to do,
something they both thought
they had enough of, already.
Our home was in cottage
country with numerous lakes
and I got to go to one often
with our neighbours. We
literally built the place,
staying in a miner's tent until
the logs and roof was in place
and the wood stove was in. It
took about three years to get
it all in place and then several
more to enjoy it. My family did
auto touring and camping and
each year we went
somewhere, seeing most of
the West over time. I too, got
that bug and proceeded to
move from a  VW bug and pup
tent to a camperized van to a
small RV to see, well almost
all of North America over
thirty years. Letting go of the
family home called for an
alternative and so, the return
to the lake.

This website focuses upon
the cottage experience. Now,
six seasons on, the place
needs a new roof, the rooms
are full, trees are growing
ever taller and relaxation
comes all too easily. 2009
was notable for a brutal
winter and cold spring. Here
in July, summer has finally
arrived and many weeks
have been booked for the
cottage. A project to
recognize Allan and
Michelle's wedding grew to
become a heritage themed
wall space.
This site is dedicated to Gadget, my beloved Spanish Water Dog who
came to me as a potential beardy after Gizmo passed. He never
made it past Neardy in terms of breed but more than made up for this
with an elegance and a gusto for living that was magic. He was
incredibly abused, enough to have him hide away for much of the day
his entire life. Being outdoors and especially being at a beach moved
him to pure joy. Sand rolling was his favourite thing to do. He would
drop and roll at any beach. He loved the water and yet could not swim
and had to be taught to do so. The cottage was his greatest joy.
Twice a day, he would pace out its boundaries, coming to a corner
and turning on the dime to move to the back or come to the front. A
walk to the far beach which was all natural and open to the dogs was
his idea of heaven. He would drop and roll every few feet. On the
Labour Day long weekend, we returned from just such a walk and a
few hours later he was twisted and in distress, unable to walk. A
stroke had put him into a literal tailspin, in which his world was
constantly turning. Holding him brought a moment of calm but there
was no course of treatment. He laid on my shoulder and passed.
It falls to Ducky now to keep the faith. He does not
give a fig for the yard, car rides or beach rolling.
He can swim though and loves to sound off at
every turn. In the village he holds his own with the
growing herd of designer dogs that have become
the essential accessory. He looked high and low
for Gadget the next spring having passed the
winter hoping, covering all their usual walks. Now,
he just stays to his place on the deck and goes
along when it is time to move along.