Our last night at the lake. The kids and I sit out on the dock in the hallowed evening. Mike has retired early in preparation for the long drive home. The night air is warm as we sneak down to the dock but the longer we sit the cooler it becomes as we begin to sense a slight chill signifying the onset of cooler evenings. We marvel at the stars. How clear the sky is. How bright those distant balls of fire are. We observe shooting stars and airplane lights. We are pretty sure we see the actual Milky Way. Andrew is pointing out constellations using an astrology app on his iPhone which he brought down as we used it’s flashlight to keep ourselves from falling in the water. The brightest stars reflected in the water. You sure don’t see that in the city. The cottages across the way all have their lights on and these lights are mirrored in the now dark navy water. I feel so small and insignificant and yet marvellously blessed to be able to tilt my eyes upwards and observe our tiny section of the universe. The water is quite still, yet we can feel the dock moving underneath us. A rythmic sway as we ponder the vast and beautiful night sky. We reminisce about doing this twenty years ago and discovering that Andrew needed glasses as we lay on the trampoline in our backyard, pointing out the Big and Little Dipper and shooting stars while Andrew could see none of what we were seeing. He can tonight. In fact he appears to be our resident astrologer.
This last day was the hottest day we’ve had all week. We spent the entire day on the dock and in the water and under the sun. Between swimming, paddle boarding, kayaking and floating the four of us did it all. And Lexie did all several times. I paddle out to the middle of the lake where the water is smooth and serene and I enter into my own little safe and secure bubble where I can pretend nothing evil or unjust is happening in the world beyond this pond. Stresses and problems forgotten for the moment and I breath deeply and inhale the fresh, sustaining air. Luckily there is no smoke today. It’s amazing how sound travels across the water as I hear muffled conversations coming from most cottages. The sounds of laughter and squeals coming from docks where other families are having fun. I paddle my way to the mouth of the small lake and contemplate wandering into the larger lake. I’ve got nothing but time and sunshine so I follow my instincts. Once out on the larger lake I paddle past campgrounds and recreational fishermen catching some quiet time as they drift slowly in their boats with their lines cast. These are the lazy hazy crazy days of summer.
We have dinner on the veranda tonight. I basically cooked up all the remaining food we’d brought out. Mike BBQ’d fresh steaks and leftover hamburgers. We boiled up the rest of the corn on the cob and baked the potatoes we bought at the tiny market at Sun Peaks resort. I made broccoli and cauliflower with cheese sauce and used up the rest of the salad fixings for a vibrant nutritious salad and we cherished our last supper together at the lake. As some of us were sipping our wine, my aunt’s pet squirrel, Neville, even dropped by for scraps. Not shy at all, he walked right up to the table and tilted his head, stood on his hind legs as if to ask where his plate was. Well if he hadn’t let Mr. Bluejay eat all the sunflower seeds Connie put out for him….
Mike, Andrew and I had driven out through the mountains to my aunts lovely lodge on the lake last Thursday with a car loaded with snacks, baking, food for the week and emotions expectantly excited for long hot days on the dock surrounded by water, loons, jumping fish and good reading material. My aunt Constance prepared the Four Seasons room for Mike and I. Wallpapered like a forest with a screen door opening onto the deck and a huge picture window with a comfy leather chair and ottoman close by, we had the best room on the premises. In the past, this is usually my mom’s room but since she did not join us this year, it became ours. Perfect for sneaking out to the dock at the crack of dawn with my bible and a couple of inspirational books. Also perfect for reading and writing long after mike has gone to sleep, as I sit in the leather chair with my feet on the ottoman, legs wrapped up in a down throw, screen door open listening to the haunting calls and cries of the loon. Friday is hot and quiet and we have the lake to ourselves. Saturday is smokey so we drive into town to accomplish some of my aunts errands and check out the lush and colourful farmers market. I’d have bought all sorts lucious things had I been at home. I happen across a marvellous find at VV. An exquisitely crocheted white and pink floral Afghan. I cannot believe someone has ditched this beautiful piece of craftsmanship only to be found amongst the junk at VV. So I grab it, it’s quite heavy, pay for it and B-line for the car as if I’d stolen something. Lexie flies in on Saturday night to join us. Sunday is cool and rainy so we hibernate inside with puzzles, books, blankets for napping, sketching and snacking and writing in my comfy leather chair, my favorite music serenading in the background. Just being together, once again, as family enjoying a relaxing vacation day is more than enough. It’s more than we deserve. It’s a blessing. Monday and Tuesday are hot and we spend the days on the dock and in the water from 7:00 am on.
It’s become tradition to drive into Sun Peaks resort for pizza and ice cream one evening. We do that Monday evening and the kids engage in lengthy conversation with the young owner of the ice cream shop. The pace of life at the resort is slow and unhurried on an August Monday night and the rest of us saunter the Bavarian streets and shops as the kids give the young German shop owner advice and suggestions for her impending move to Vancouver.
The talks we have, the watermelon we slurp down on the dock, the bike rides Mike goes on with my aunt, patching the family size floatie we brought out three summers ago, the neighbors new pup Annie, all add up to another memorable summer experience. We had the lazy, definitely the hazy and inevitably the crazy days of summer all wrapped up.
The Red Plaid Apron 