‎63 Years of Memories....

‎63 Years of Memories....
that's what I have now. The photo below shows the chair on the point which for so many years was my father's favorite after-supper place to contemplate and cast for walleye. As much as I feel guilty about what's happened, I know he would understand and even say there's nothing to forgive. He lived life fully and moved on many times. I'm the one with the unique experience of being attached to a beautiful place for my whole life. And despite all my best efforts, yesterday the 'cabin' was sold. I signed the papers and, truth be told, a weight was lifted. A new life lies ahead without the obligations, but with all of the wonderful memories. My unrelentingly positive attitude says this is truly how it is, but my heart is still sad.

There are some things in life for which the balance between the obligation and the joy of ownership often cannot be sustained forever. It became clear that I was no longer up to the task of taking care of the place quite a while back. However, knowing what needs to be done and doing it are often far apart. Finally, no choice was left. It had to be sold.

Now it's gone. No more worrying about how long the grass or how deep the snow is up there. No more sublimely pleasurable early morning cups of coffee sitting on the dock when the color of the lake is like pale blue glass and the air is completely still. No more endless repairs, high taxes, and utility bills. No more late nights around the fire pit with friends and family - warm from both fire and friendship. No more frozen pipes or emergency calls to the furnace guys. No more saunas and midnight skinny dipping that make you feel like you'll live forever while your connection with nature is confirmed by the gazillion stars of the milky way and the loons calling out in the dark. No more concerns with low well water levels or water so hard and full of iron the clothes turn yellow and your newly washed hair feels like brillo. No more finding the way home by boat in the dark after a long day on the lake feeling like this is the only place you really, really belong. No more praying that the boathouse will make it another year without collapsing. And ultimately, no more making new memories with friends, family and loved ones. No new memories, that is, at Half Bay, Lake Vermilion, Tower, MN. New life... here we come!

How do you thank a place for memories?

Monday, May 28, 2012

My how time changes things!

I was just a little girl when my dad built 'the fireplace'. We cooked so many meals on it down at the 'picnic grounds'. On the back side of this was another fire place with a large flat cooking surface made of thick iron with a firebox underneath it with an iron door. The chimney served both the open and the enclosed fire. One year, Mom canned over 60 quarts of blueberries at this homemade appliance made of stone. The large flat horizontal stone sticking out on the right side (kind of hidden by me in both photos) was used as a table. After any meal cooked there, my dad did the dishes by washing them with hot soapy water, piling them all in a dish rack, then dunking the whole thing in the lake to rinse. We had lots of real dishes, etc. which were stored in an old icebox painted green. By icebox, I mean a pre-electric refrigerator. Besides the obvious change of the little girl into the grandma lady, the change I wanted to point out is the other effects of nature. I'd been thinking that the 'my memories made things bigger' but not so. When I came across this old photo, I realized that the 50+ years of leaves-turned-into-soil had built up the earth around the fireplace so that it seems smaller now. Check out where the grill is in relation to my mom then and to me now. And there is about a foot of cement base showing in the original, but none showing now. If you look carefully, you can compare the rocks of the chimney then to how much smoother they are now. I don't know much, but I'm thinking nature has been a little kinder to me than that old fireplace - at least I'm still having fun.
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