Green and cool, but stippled by the hot sun; boulders, moss and delicate foliage form a Zen garden with no human assistance, as the birch bark breaks the green with shafts of silver.
A window opens into the blueness high above, where eagles (or, more probably, the much less glamorous sounding turkey vultures) ride the thermals with such grace. Below, the casually thrown patchwork of the Pretty River valley; a colony of dark motorcyclist ants passes by.
Georgian Bay forms an almost separate lake at the east of Lake Huron and is a relaxing 2 hour drive or so from Toronto. As such, it is an obvious year-round weekend playground and is often referred to as ‘cottage country’.
The city gives way to rolling countryside, cut through by almost straight roads in a gridded roller-coaster. On a hot summer’s day, it is hard to realise that many of these ‘hills’ become ski slopes in winter. Stranger still to a Brit used to the world grinding to a halt when it snows, there are plenty of people who commute daily from the area, even in winter. As someone pointed out to us, it makes a huge difference not having to brake constantly for bends! I’m not sure I’m quite ready for this challenge just yet.
An invitation to an exhibition opening at the Mad and Noisy Gallery (Silicamorphous GLASS VARIATIONS – inspirational!) took us to Creemore, considered one of the prettiest small towns in Ontario. Sitting between the Mad River and the Noisy River, Creemore lived up to its reputation and we spent a relaxing afternoon just mooching, before eating a mountain of meat in a very well established Hungarian restaurant – yummy cabbage rolls as a starter and Apple Strudel to die for! (The Sovereign Restaurant is the building you see at the foreground of the first picture above.)
Yesterday we walked on the shores of Lake Huron along Wasaga Beach, the longest freshwater beach in the world!
The empty beach volleyball courts lie waiting for their potential champions, whilst further up the bay the kites paint their ever changing patterns against the clouds . . .
