Real Talk!

Yesterday, after writing about cherished cottage memories, I started thinking about my own. In 1968, my folks purchased a small island on a chain of lakes. Thereafter, my mother, brother, sister and I spent every summer and all of it, at the island. Dad spent three full weeks, plus weekends, with us. The rest of his holidays were spent on vacations away and hunting.

I always felt most a peace on that island. In my adult years, I used to spend a minimum of 3 days alone there, every year. Now that is what I call “having some personal time & space”. It was extraordinary.

Mom and Dad were both very clever people. Early on, in our cottage days, they began stashing a big cardboard box in the rafters. Purposely put where any attempts to retrieve it would be within sight of all but out of reach of us kids and affectionately known as the “rainy day box”, it was well-stocked with things like water paints, pastels, construction paper, colouring books, glue, coloured pencils, child-safe scissors and other “crafty” items.

The rainy day box somehow made a rainy day exciting. These were also most likely the days when we would pull out the stops and make fresh bread, from scratch. Rainy days were actually a treat!