Category Archives: Rural Life

Cottage time!

It’s a bit like having a magic portal when ‘going to the cottage’ requires no packing or travel, just a determination and discipline to embrace our home as we would a rental and ‘not do’!

A dear UK friend asked us what made us think to do this but, in truth, I know few people who live in this amazing area we call our home who regularly choose to go away during the summer. Instead, we head for the water and move lazily from hammock to gazebo or fire pit!

We kayaked on Loughborough Lake, a 20-minute drive to the dock at Battersea; at times it felt almost like wilderness and at others what we term rural suburbia but always beautiful, blessed by loons and herons and so quiet! It was lucky that Paul snapped his paddle before we set out and even luckier to be able to get a new one just 12 minutes’ drive away.

We explored the south end of Dog Lake in our underpowered metal tub, Tin Lizzie, running out of fuel just at the tip of Carrying Place – we paddled over to a neighbour who kindly ran us up the road to fetch the extra fuel.

These minor adventures are the true stuff of Canadian cottage time!

The 'Cottage'
The ‘Cottage’

We learned more about the origins and build of our house over a cream tea here with the original owners and about the past and renovation of the beautiful Arts and Crafts home on Beaupre Island, truly a piece of living history.

The house on Beaupre Island
The house on Beaupre Island

We ate out a couple of times (at the Holiday Country Manor and the Opinicon Pub – both in local villages), just enough to feel we were ‘away’, with simple cottage BBQs and salads the rest of the time.

And we were blessed with 10 days of probably the best weather this summer so far – golden and hot without being suffocating.

Mostly what stays with me is time to just sit and soak up the sights and sounds, the delight of being distracted from my book by the whirring wings and peeping of the hummingbirds and the orange flashes of the Monarch butterflies, and the sense quiet companionship – with Paul and with all that is.

Hummingbird

It was so tempting just to ‘stay at the cottage’ . . .

Abundance of life – an invitation to wonder, joy and gratitude

One of the great joys in living where we do is the abundance of life around us. Each day we bear witness to these other lives, the small (and not so small) birds and animals that inhabit and visit our land. I have, on at least one occasion, counted as many as sixteen different species visible at a time.

The squirrels and chipmunks are ubiquitous. Some of our neighbours experience them only as pests and it is true that they can be. We lost a couple of cushions to them last winter. They also have a reputation for getting into motorized equipment and trashing the wiring. And the black bomber spent much of the latter part of the summer pelting us with acorn laden twigs. But I remind myself that this is their land as much as it is ours. I can’t help being aware that mankind is notoriously the most destructive animal on the planet. 

I am awed by our squirrels’ ability to overcome challenges. We have tried at least to limit their access to our bird-feeders, which hang as a smorgasbord on a wire line between trees. Last winter there was little ingress – we seemed to have lost the wily old guard. But this summer there is a new generation of athletes. One black squirrel in particular has an extraordinary ability to jump both up from the ground and out from the trunk of a tree, covering distances equivalent to at least five times his own height. And there are a number of  tightrope walkers – I am fascinated by their seeming ability to eat and swallow when hanging upside down.

Every day, there is some unexpected presence. Every time I open a window or step outside, I am aware of what I think of as ‘the noisy silence’. Every day, there is an invitation to wonder, joy and gratitude.

Carrying Place Wildlife Photo Album

Loving the land

One of the things that has surprised me about our move is the intensity of my feeling towards our 2.5 acres of land.

I am awed that we have shoreline, Shield rock, woodland, wetland and meadow, all in this small space!

I had not anticipated the strong sense not so much of ownership but of stewardship that I feel. I want to do right by the land and the creatures that share it with us.

As winter approaches, we are working hard to get the external jobs done. Putting away kayaks and garden furniture, blowing and gathering up some but not all the leaves for compost (the layer on the grass would be just too deep otherwise and the compost will be so useful), cutting wood, replenishing paths . . .

Timber . . . !

We had something like seven trees felled last weekend, which sounds more drastic than it was.

A Basswood (Linden) was partly uprooted in our wood and had to come down for safety, taking at least one other tree (cherry) with it. Then there was a dead Elm in the wetland.

Otherwise it was what the locals consider a ‘weed tree’, four Manitoba Maples (Box Elder, Ashleaf Maple). They shoot up everywhere, are very brittle, don’t burn particularly hot and are perceived as a nuisance. We had one threatening our garage, septic system and the neighbours’ power lines and another that would have also grown through the power lines.

We now have a lot of logs to split (the start of our firewood for the winter of 2017/18) and smaller branches to feed through a wood chipper. The resulting chips are awesome for replenishing our path down to the shore and for creating our way through the woods.

On the plus side, the weather has been largely sunny and mild and doing physical work outside appeals to both of us so much more than going to a gym.

It could take a while though!

Brass Point Bridge - View at Dusk

The next chapter: moving rural (3)

That sense of homecoming finds constant affirming echoes. Seeley’s Bay is a little smaller than Tisbury[1] and Kingston rather bigger than Salisbury[2] but there is a comfortable resonance. The Bath Stone I grew up with is oolitic limestone; Kingston is known as the ‘Limestone City’. As the original capital of Upper Canada, Kingston has older buildings (if not ‘old’ by European standards) than much of Canada, from elegant mansions to more humble cottages, as does the surrounding area. Kingston’s Springer Market Square evokes memories of Salisbury’s market and especially of trips to the fair. There will always be an inward smile when we go to a play Thousand Island’s Playhouse; Salisbury Playhouse was one of the treasures of my early life (so awesome to find a really rich theatrical culture around us here).

Kingston 2016 (8 of 8) Kingston 2016 (3 of 8) Kingston 2016 (4 of 8)

A long time British immigrant mentioned to me the other day that one thing she does miss about the UK is the diversity of the scenery within a relatively small area. Canada is a country known for its vast panoramic landscapes and, sometimes, they can go on for just a bit too long. Here we wend our winding way along roads that transition between bucolic agricultural vistas, craggy outcrops of shield rock that belong much further north, typical Ontario marsh, woodland, and jaw-dropping water views.

Rideau (5 of 11) Lower Brewers Lock Rideau (10 of 11) Woodland ascent to Rock Dunder Rideau (11 of 11) View from Rock Dunder, the highest point between Kingston and Ottawa

I do not, honestly, miss England. But it seems that I have sought out a place that brings past and present together, integrating those things that I loved and valued in my childhood with the choice I have made to be Canadian. That feels like a pretty good opening for the next chapter!

[1] Tisbury was my nearest village growing up, about 3 miles from the hamlet where we lived.
[2] Likewise, Salisbury, at 12 miles away, was our nearest city.