There’s a distinct sound in the way my grandfather’s cabin door slams, that unique cabin smell that lingers on my pillow, the way one of the bedroom doors doesn’t close properly, the heat from the wood stove for when the evenings get a little chilly. There are the memories of sitting watching movies, with a cup of blueberries from my grandfather’s blueberry fields, sprinkled with sugar, and the way kraft dinner tastes after a long day of swimming in the lake and soaking up the sun. The cool nights where bonfires with s’mores, hot dogs, pies made from white bread and berries, and the hilarious stories that are told over these moments.
The games of manhunt with cousins, the way we would take the paddle boat out and go around the island, or the way we’d get someone to yell, “HEN! CHICKEN! ROOSTER! DUCK!” and do our best jump off the dock. The competitions to see who could land the farthest past the noodle someone held out when jumping off, or scoring each other on technique. Mermaid tea parties, fishing off the dock, “Don’t go past the bottle”, “LEECH!”, “Watch me do this.”
The ever changing number of feral cats on my grandparents doorstep, and the few that end up coming inside and becoming part of the family. The Easter egg hunts, the games of hide and seek in the woods, the hours spent in front of the tv kicking each others’ butts at video games. The quiet moments with adventures in books, the never ending teasing between cousins, the hours upon hours of playing with homemade play dough or colouring. Christmas mornings, the opening of presents, the big family dinners.
There have been many summers, and even other parts of the years spent in good ol’ Guysborough county, specifically in Goshen and at Eight Island Lake. It would be hard not to post a little something from my explorations of Nova Scotia from this little piece of heaven. It’s where I spent a lot of my childhood, it’s where I got the worst sunburns of my life, it’s where I find peace and quiet with a good book on the dock and the sounds of the loons soothing me.
It’s where most of the tears that are seen are from the laughter that is so deep. It’s where I get to enjoy a nice relaxing bath that is sometimes so hot, I nearly pass out afterwards. It’s where when I’m feeling weary and exhausted, I know I can catch a few extra z’s because the pace of life is so easy. It’s where I get to spend some Christmas’.
So here, enjoy some of the beauty that keeps me coming back for more. The place that has had me picking up my camera more often in the last couple months than in the last year. The place that has been stoking my creativity, and passion to continue to learn what I can do with a camera. The place where I can read until my heart is content, where I can write until I have no more words. This is my ultimate relaxation place (most of the time!)
Grampy’s cabin, where I’ve spend many, many nights. Now I stay at my parents place, right next door.
The lake, with the dock that has seen many sunburns, books read and sky high jumps into the cool water.
When the morning fog starts lifting off the lake, there’s nothing quite as peaceful.
The fog lifts as the sun starts to come up.
The view from the grass
The road traveled many, many times.
This is the view from my bedroom at my parent’s cabin, and what a view it is.
Sometimes golden hour is best viewed from the lake.
Sometimes the sunsets are just mesmerizing, and ones like these have me in my rubber boots, standing in the lake, and squatting just so I can get these colours.
Sometimes you just need the view from my grandparents place, just in Goshen.
The peaking through trees and the calm of the water.
The stars viewed at night from the dock are breath taking. You don’t really get to see stars like these in the city.
Like it’s unbelievable how many stars you see, and then you start to think about your significance in the world, and just how small you really are.