The work clock ticks its final seconds and then you’re out the door – piling the spouse, the kids, the dog, the luggage into the car – and you’re off. Up to the cottage, land of boats, bonfires and bug spray. Where the water laps on the dock, the lonely loon sings and that annoying jetskiier from around the bend vrooms around at an unspeakable hour in the morning. But who cares? You’re finally here – able to fire up the barbecue and feast on Ontario grown berries and corn!
Whether you have a beach, a dock or one of those cool rocks from the Canadian shield – put up that hammock, settle into that lounger, sit back in that Muskoka chair. You’re on Cottage Time.
COTTAGE TIME: But when you have a cottage, after a while a funny thing happens. Not only does going to the cottage become a central part of your life, you also start to develop certain, specific habits. Normal, everyday details take on a solemn and venerated importance. Every nook and cranny of your home away from home is part of a hallowed institution. And even the most mundane of activities can become beloved, time-honored traditions.
Matt (at Wasaga Beach): “When I get up to our cottage, this is what I do; I take off my shoes, I get a beer and some pretzels and I sit on the dock until the road rage from the trip up the 400 subsides. The rest of the family knows not to bug me until I’m done. That first few hours just sitting there zens me out in a way nothing else does.”
Graciella (near Georgian Bay) “When we’re at the cottage we have to play cards, usually Euchre or Crazy Eights. I can’t imagine being up there and not having a game. It goes on all weekend. We make all these great snack-y type foods and don’t even bother with lunch. We just play and scarf down all these yummy bits and bites – until someone says, what’s for dinner?”
Douglas (on Lake Muskoka): “One year, my parents decided to update the two reclining leather chairs we’ve always had at the cottage. They were really old, as in older than any of us adult kids, but man were they comfortable. Visiting the cottage meant sacking out in one of those chairs, with our feet up and shooting the breeze with my brother or sisters. I didn’t speak to Mom and Dad for a week after I found out. Those chairs were practically part of the family.”