If you follow this blog for any length of time, you will hear me talk a lot about the Georgian Bay, which is part of Lake Huron. 55 years ago, my grandparents got together with friends of their and bought some land (for what was I’m sure a princely sum at the time but is almost laughable by today’s standards). Although they had no way of knowing it, of course, the decision they made those many years ago would turn out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. So thanks, guys! You are super awesome.
The reason they became acquainted with the area to begin with was because my dad and his brother were campers at the summer camp I’ve previously written about. Going up to visit their kids, I can see how they would have fallen in love with the landscape. How could you not?
I am an avowed cottage fanatic, and I’m sure it comes as no surprise to hear me say that some of the best times of my life have been spent there. It never fails – the moment I step off of the dock at our marina (we’re on an island with boat access only), all of the worries and anxieties buzzing around my head seem to slow down, or melt away. It’s hard not to feel relaxed and at peace in the midst of such majestic natural beauty.
The shoreline at the back of our island is composed of thousands of rocks, of all shapes and sizes. These rocks have been sitting where they are for an eon, and will be there long after I am gone. Some days I wish I was a Georgian Bay rock, basking in the warmth of the summer sun, gently buffeted by the waves lapping at the shore and the cool breeze of the westerly winds.