Summer in the North, not only for snowbirds.

There’s a reason why snowbirds flock to their respective Northern homes in the warmer months. Simply put, it’s breath-taking. The crystal-clear lakes in Canada’s serene cottage country are a prescription strength sedative for the clutter clogging my daily life. The harrowing journey alone, to reach these coveted and secluded retreats, is an epic wilderness adventure.

For my always-on-the-go persona, a weekend at the lake can be delectably simple, yet daunting in the same breath. The aforementioned journey usually begins for me with the prepping, packing, and schlepping of bodies and “necessities.” Winding down from this familiar, chaotic pace, is more shocking to my system than the cold plunge I’ll inevitably be coaxed into off the end of the floating dock. The stark drop off of needing to do nothing at all sends my fragile eco-system into a reboot that takes a while to come back to life. When I finally find myself content in the quiet, it’s late in the afternoon. An awe-inspiring stillness has descended and enveloped our tucked away corner of the world.

To wake with the rising sun and catch our breakfast from a clear mountain stream. Papa bear may have been a bit enthusiastic for my taste in one of my childhood favourites “Too Much Vacation.” While waking a snooze or ten past the initial rising is more my tempo, early mornings at the lake are astounding. Never has my ritualized (née feverish) coffee routine been so rewarding. Stumble, bumble, mumble, yesterdays coffee grounds in the green bin, wheretheheckaretherecyclednonbleachedecofriendlycoffeefilters, hydrate that thing, dump an unknown/always varying amount of some strong coffee, smash the lid, business. Now we wait, le sigh. Accompanied by some close friends from home, cream and stevia, my steaming cup and I are perfectly content in the cool morning. The temperature will shortly creep up enough to fool this Floridian that it’s hot enough and time for a dip. Bathings suits are donned, and my bravado has wearied, it’s suddenly cool again. Another Berenstein Bear mountain lake accolade was “to bathe in its sparkling water.” No argument there from this salty, swampy southerner. I’ll be kind and say the water temperature is, ahem, refreshing. Staying in for a swim more than twenty minutes is likely to induce a hard-to-shake afternoon chill (remedy: a long-sleeve Robbie’s Marina t-shirt, cozy pair of socks, and one puzzle).photo-1 The restorative properties are bountiful. Just ask Mac, never has that dog had such an exotic grooming treatment comparable to his silky soft coat post bath in the glorious Gull Lake.

Summer isn’t quite, Summer, it seems in the great white North. The searing heat, crisply kissed against my skin from March to November, is no longer my daily constant. Au revoir steam and sweat shellacking to my body like a second skin. Adieu vaporized lipsticks. As the adventure continues, down private roads full of un-exposed curves, my heightened senses are aware fall is just around the corner. Florida, the almost eternal summer-land, seems farther away than before. The soft maples in the creek nearby have come to stand at attention. A worthy red coat of fluttering leaves against their lingeringly green counterparts. With a short few long-days left, the back to school and work fervor in the air, I’m grateful for the quiet investments made sitting on the dock. My sister-in-law and I, placidly side-by-side. The boys spraying by in the speed boat. Les enfants laughter bouncing back along the wake. There’s no place like home, but I’m finding there’s more than one place with that name.




Hello my dear, mon cher.

Hey, hi, hello…and most currently bonjour! Beauty, I have retained some knowledge from my desperate Rosetta Stone/Duolingo immersion. While my inner critic craves to assume you know me, I can feel the apocalyptic disapproval of the great Charles Reinhart.  “Never Assume!” His mantra displayed on countless post-its in the sacred halls of Epworth, at Duke University, still reverberates in my psyche. I’m an American 20-something, staring 30 in the face, engaged in the daily onslaught of figuring out who I am and what it is exactly that I “do.” More on that later.

1392809_10104419498251891_46980943_nIn case you are just tuning in, the most recent about face in my lifetime movie screenplay is an all-in move to the great white North, known alias Canada. It’s been quite a few years since my last blog, which was also a far from home adventure. You many ask yourself, “Why would someone come to this blog, what would they be looking for?” Clearly, it will be my doting mother, scanning the pages for details to digest and fret over while I am so far from her reach. Or the KGB, gathering intel on their former agent. Either of these entities are accepted and invited. In conclusion, snooping would be the answer. I invite you to a weekly snoop of guilt-free indulgence.

Should you be enticed to return for a peak in my living room window, I look forward to divulging sensational developments and mundane joys. While I have a host of ideas, I’m sure the blog will evolve into its own madness. Moving, traveling, co-existing with dogs, home design, soft cheeses, snow tires, and french lessons are my daily life and I invite you to share in it all. And yes, I think about snow tires all the time. Marvelous Mondays could easily escalate to Murderous Mondays, you have been warned. My newlywed cooking fiascos are sure to amuse, there have already been a few snafus. Marathon skype sessions with seasoned friends. Yoga and book clubs to survive and thrive in this new tundra. Bear with me as I struggle to remember to put only one space after a period. My hands haven’t come to terms with proportionally spaced fonts. It’s a thing,

Tell me how you really feel. Feelings and tantrums encouraged. Vent, be curious, or offer another solution that my young mind hasn’t stumbled upon yet. Comments, feedback, ideas, and suggestions are wildly encouraged! I am thrilled to be opening up another chapter of my library book life and would love to share it with you.