This past
Sunday morning, bright and early, Matt and the boys and I stuffed the back of
our vehicle with food and summer gear and set off on an eight hour road trip up
the highway towards home. We’re renting our friends’ beautiful cottage on St.
Joseph Island again for part of the summer, where we can be closer to family,
and nature, and a different kind of fun. It makes me happy that my boys now
find that long drive on northern roads as exciting and nostalgic as I do.
It is quiet
here on the Island. The cottage is nestled among trees at the end of a long gravel
driveway and boat traffic on the lake is light. We do not have t.v. here, and
our wireless connection is limited and sporadic. It’s refreshing to be temporarily cut off
from the constant noise of everyday life that sometimes distracts us from what
really matters most to us.
In this peaceful
environment we hear mostly the gentle lapping of the lake's water against
smooth stones, the wind rustling the lush green leaves of the trees, and
songbirds calling cheerfully to one another from their sheltered perches. When
we're still, we're rewarded with visits from gentle, wild creatures: a doe who
paused right outside the front window this morning to gaze quizzically at us, a
family of Mergansers bobbing playfully along the shore this afternoon. The sun
warms our skin during the day, and in the early mornings and evenings we bask
in the happy glow of simple human pleasures, like Will snuggling under a
favourite soft blanket to read peacefully, or Noah taking advantage of the
quiet hour after his brother has gone to bed to have thoughtful conversations
with his dad and me.
The noise we
sometimes hear here is of our own creation. We play rowdy games of Pictionary
after dinner and make up ridiculous songs about the funny cat graphics on one
of Noah’s t-shirts. Will’s imagination runs wild in this place, evident in the lively
character called Walter he’s suddenly invented, who looks exactly like Will but
speaks with an outlandish accent and has a riotously clever sense of humour
(which only Will, and not the dimwitted Walter, realizes). Noah entertains us
with songs on his ukulele, and when the wind picks up in the afternoons and the
waves crash mightily against the shore, there are shouts of glee from everyone
who dares brave the chilly water.
It struck me
this morning, as I watched the early beams of the rising sun dance across the
rippling lake, that this beautiful scene, set against the backdrop of majestic
evergreens and rock formations, happens every
single day, regardless of who is paying attention. It seems such a stroke
of good fortune that any of us are here to witness such a breathtaking bit of
wonder.
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