Monday, February 26, 2007

silver harbour - part 1

Monday, February 26, 2007
the cottage - a view from the lake-side @ night.

a lovely, simple a-frame cottage. a tiny one. nothin' fancy. no bells. no whistles. a 20 gallon hot water tank. a septic tank. a tiny patch of trees. a wood stove - not installed according to the fire code. and a deck, screened in and looking out onto lake winnipeg. in the spring, summer and autumn you could here the sighing of the tide from just about anywhere in the cottage. the windows remained perpetually opened, as did the sliding door that leads out to the deck. a gentle breeze sang thru my bamboo chimes. and on some days, you could here that familiar, yet enchanting, flutter and hum of the hummingbirds, slurping up my offerings of fake red nectar.

people lived here only on the weekends. during the weeks, a silent hush descended on silver harbour. and then the gentle, shy does would emerge from their hiding spots. and ... if you were lucky, you might spot the occasional stag - tho they seemed far more elusive that their female counterparts. teeming with life -- this silent, silver prairie nugget called silver harbour. 2.5 hours north of winnipeg. remote as remote gets. coyotes, owls, eagles, pelicans and a certain yearling moose all called this place home.


the forest - thick, lush and vibrant.
just steps from our door.



winter - the view from my kitchen window
(the lake lies beyond the snow pile)


lake winnipeg is the size of switzerland. and though its only a lake, from my kitchen window in silver harbour it seemed like a vast, expansive sea. a walk along the narrow little beach at silver harbour revealed the tiny hoof imprints in the sand ... our wild friends ... visited the beach, too. and i knew, tho i never did see them, that they lurked about our yard in the deep stalk of night.

night time up @ silver harbour. ahhhhh - pure, unadulterated night. a million plus starry beacons pepper the velvet sky. and ... @ those certain times of year, mother nature's spectacular aurora borealis light show forced me to drag my foldable camping chair outside, just to watch in silent awe and wonder.

if you watch them closely,
when they grace the night skies,
you can seem them dance electrically



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3 comments:

Paul said...

Really brings back memories. My grandmother had the smallest cottage at Wells Beach, Maine, when I was a kid. But it made it dominated by the seabreeze and the elements. When it rained, you really heard the rain on the roof! Poor insulation I guess.

And with the front and back doors open, the outside air became the inside air in seconds because of how small the place was.

Loved it.

the.red.mantissa said...

yes .... the rain. hitting the thinly insulated roof. i know it. and indeed, air exchange become instantaneous on the front door opening. a very different living experience it was, for me, who was b4 that, a city girl.

i was remote ... but so great.

Infinitesimal said...

cool beans tootz

i am beat.

LOVED the last few lines
dancing electrically.

night night