Foreword
I sit on the covered wood porch of our log cabin in a hewn-log rocking chair with a Siberian husky asleep at my feet. On the header above the front door is a sign with the Gaelic words Croich Na Rosach : This is the refuge of the Rosses. For forty years now it has been my familys place of escape; a refuge and our sanctuary.
Beyond the cottage porch is the lake, whose waves break gently on our rocky shoreline. A song sparrow sings from an overhead branch, my robin hops about looking for worms, and a pair of loons paddle about the bay hooting softly; but for the quiet murmur of the birds, the soft breathing of my dog, and the sounds of the water, there is silence.
Timelessness, isolation, and simplicity create our space. Here we have time to think, time to read, and plenty of time for contemplation. We go down to the dock and stare vacantly over the water. We perform insignificant tasks without conscience nagging us with guilt. Our lives seem to slow down, we have time with our kids that we dont have at home. We read with them, play a board game, go fishing, or just talk. More amazing, perhaps, is that they also find time for us. As musician Jimmy Buffet would say, we are living here in three-quarter time. If our clock stopped, what would it matter?
This place has been my summer haven for most of my life, and wherever the changes of my life have taken me, this cottage has remained my spiritual home. It is a place where I always return. It has a long familiarity in which every tree and rock and building comforts me. Every sound reassures me.
This book of stories, in the same spirit of my first collection, Cottage Daze , is about life at my log cabin cottage on an island in the middle of a northern lake, about the people I share it with, and the animals and nature that add depth and humour to our lives. In writing my stories I have never divulged the location of our own island cottage. This is from no desire to create mystery it would be easy enough for the curious to discover where I live rather, in the description of my cottage and all that goes on there, the reader might find the likeness of their own such place. That is my goal: my cottage is your cottage.
Welcome and enjoy this is life at the cottage!
Prologue: Back to the Cottage
The sun is shining. The forecast had been for thunder showers, high winds, and cool temperatures. Granted, Environment Canada has been known to be wrong at times, but they never seem to err in a positive way. I jump from my bed and dash to the window, pulling back the drapes. The sky is blue, not a cloud in sight. I am greeted by a beautiful, warm, brilliant morning. What a day to open the cottage.
My wife had risen early and put breakfast on bacon and eggs, toast, and coffee. I holler for the kids, Lets get up, time to go!
Theyre already up and out, says my wife. Getting things loaded in the truck. Sometimes they make me so proud. I head out myself and whistle for the two dogs. They come running and leap into the back of the pickup, slipping quickly into their kennels and settling down for the drive.
The journey to the cottage passes quickly. My wife stays awake and talks to me. The children watch the passing scenery out the window. I am not even treated like a remote control for the truck stereo. No, Go to disc four, skip this song, or replay that song. No, Turn it up, I cant hear! Not even any yelps from my son directed at his sisters to, Shut-up and quit singing! In fact, we listen to old John Denver CDs, and everyone sings and laughs. Before we know it, we are at the lake.