November 4: After a very quiet end-of-summer, my good friend Kate and I closed the cottage during the week ahead of Thanksgiving. While the weather was still very good, and I managed to get in the lake for a short while every day, I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the weather turned cold and wet.
So we left the old girl boarded up for the winter, late on a sunny, cool afternoon. I could almost hear her drawing a resigned breath as we left in the boat, gathering strength for what she knew would be a long, cold and lonely time. I imagine her watching as we went north, and then around the point, out of sight. Alone again, as she was for so long before I came along.
We’ve grown together over the last 4 years, she and I. She’s stronger now, protected by a new roof, some new windows, wiring and plumbing. A good cleaning out has removed a small mountain of junk that undoubtedly made her feel overburdened, and some new furniture (well, new to her anyway) might help her feel younger again. With her help, I’ve realized a dream that I have held for a very long time: returning an older, deteriorating building to a useful and happy life.
In doing that, I’ve developed some marginal skills with power tools, and gained assurance that I can accomplish many things that I had previously only imagined. This came with the help of builder-mate Roy, Kate, and others, who would pitch in to help “move the sticks” on another project. She and I owe them all a debt of gratitude.
As we wait for next year, I often imagine her standing alone on her little island, her back to the wind and rain, gathering herself for the winter snows. She’s done this for more than a hundred years, so perhaps she’s used to it by now; I don’t think I will ever really enjoy winter, and perhaps she doesn’t either. Whatever the case, I’m already looking forward to the early weeks of May when I can return to her. Throwing the back door open and calling out “Hello cottage” once again. I can almost imagine hearing her exhale slightly as she realizes that the long winter break has past and warmer, happier days lie ahead.
Will I hear a small distant voice say “Hello David” in reply ? It wouldn’t surprise me for a moment.