Cottage Daze 2-Book Bundle. James Ross
Читать онлайн книгу.
editions of Clue and Monopoly, two perennial favourites. There are Risk, Full House, Masterpiece, and Life. There are checkers and Chinese checkers, chess, backgammon, and Mastermind. We have an old Rummoli game where we can teach the children how to gamble, in the same manner and on the same board where I learned how to play poker with my parents when I was young. In my dad’s handwriting on one corner of the board, now slightly faded and barely legible, is the order of what beats what, from royal flush down to ace high.
Of course, there are several decks of cards, most of them complete. We love a good round of euchre or hearts. There are modern games like The Settlers of Catan and Cranium. When bigger groups gather, we can make fools of ourselves playing Pictionary, Balderdash, Trivial Pursuit, or charades. My wife and I will sit on the dock on a quiet afternoon and play a game of Scrabble.
I remember my siblings and me cleaning up after supper while my parents went for an evening paddle. Then we would get a game set up and eagerly await their return. Playing a game with the parents was always something we looked forward to — it was a memorable part of cottage life.
Another memory is of my parents going to a friend’s for dinner. They returned talking about all that happened in the evening, and I could hear them from my bed. I caught snippets of their conversation: some murdered body, hit over the head with a candlestick, in a ballroom. From what I could understand, there were secret passages between rooms — how cool is that in the imaginative mind of a five-year-old? My mother had been hanging out with some professor in a billiard room, but my dad didn’t seem to mind, even when the academic turned out to be a killer. My dad seemed to have followed some sexpot named Scarlet around, and this did seem to annoy my mother. I thought, boy adults have fun: people murdered, and what a mansion their friends must have! A game called Clue had just been introduced to North America.
Now, we sit around the table staring covertly at our secret notes, going from room to room playing detective in a race to find out who murdered Mr. Body. I am always Colonel Mustard. At one time the kids had a good giggle when I would jabber away in a rendition of an old colonel’s English accent. Now, they just roll their eyes.
When we are at home during the school year, we sometimes think that it would be nice to set aside one evening a week for a family game night. Great idea, but it just never happens. Life with children is too busy. They are on the go, or we have other places to be and more important things to do.
At the cottage there is always time, and sitting around the table with the whole family and an old board game remains a wonderful way to spend it.
Never turn your back on your sister.
Cottage Guests
It doesn’t matter how well you know them, cottage guests will always change when they come to your summer abode. Typically, there are three main types. There are those who show up with a sporting goods store strapped to their SUVs. They have canoes or kayaks, water skis and wakeboards, fishing rods, snorkelling gear, and baseball gloves. These active guests are up every morning at 6:00 a.m., and don’t stop all weekend. They energize you. They tire you out.
Then there are the guests who park their backsides in the sitting room or on the dock and act like they are visiting some swank, four-star, all-inclusive resort. They like to say things like, “My beer is empty,” “I’m hungry, when is lunch usually served?” and “You should build yourself a little trolley — it would make it easier for you to bring down all those appetizers and drinks, and save you some trips.” They are always on time for dinner, and afterwards, while you clean up, they take the canoe out for a romantic evening paddle. “You should try it,” they say.
Finally, there are the guests who immediately fall in love with the place, constantly smiling and shaking their heads in wonder. They are immediately at ease and totally comfortable in their surroundings. They like to read, and they tend to enjoy the simple things in life. They also like to help out with cottage projects, daily chores, and in cooking meals. Meal preparation becomes a social, fun time, with everyone getting involved. Some will volunteer to take charge of a homemade pizza night or some ethnic-themed meal.
While these visitors quickly fall into the relaxation mode, the others remain nervous and fidgety, having had to leave their workplace technology behind. They are out of their comfort zones, without their cellphones, laptops, and BlackBerries. In fact, they do not know what else to use their hands for. You find them nervously pacing around the dock in the morning, stretching and flexing their thumbs. During the drive home they check every kilometre to see if they are “back in range,” and when they miraculously re-enter this connected zone, they immediately fall silent, all their concentration focussed on their techno addictions.
The children also like to invite their own young friends to spend some time at the cottage. Some are bored — “There is nothing to do!” Translation: they miss their cellphones, computers, video games, and text messages. These might remain friends, but they are city friends. The kids seem to have an innate ability to recognize the friends who will fit in, use their imaginations, and join in the time-tested cottage activities. At their summer escape, they want to surround themselves with those who will unabashedly play their made-up games of manhunt, James Bond, capture the flag, and, after dark, the sinister murder game. They play old, traditional board games, and can spend whole days frolicking in the lake, never complaining that they’re cold.
The best cottage guests? They create memories that make you laugh. They suddenly pull harmonicas out of their pockets at the evening campfire and entertain. Who knew they were musical? They have their own fun and funky fireside songs and games. They religiously rise in the early morning, jump into the lake, and scream like some phantom lake monsters. They get the kids up early and take them out fishing. A fellow cottage friend said she had a guest who would play the trombone every morning at the end of the dock while the sun was rising. Others will lie out on the swim rock at night, looking up at the stars and pointing out to the kids all the constellations.
There is always that brief moment of contemplation — before the dive.
The guests we invite to our cottage, good friends and family alike, are those that we care enough about to want to share our favourite place on earth. The good ones do not simply take from the experience, but rather add to it. By doing so, they tend to find their way into our cottage lore. Also, by doing so, they tend to ensure themselves of another invite!
The Food Chain
My wife stumbled onto the battle scene first. She had gone to retrieve the watering can, which is stored under the front porch of the cottage, when she jumped back with a shrill screech.
Of course this drew the attention of my children, who, although they never seem to hear the clang of the dinner bell calling them for a meal, respond at once to a horrified yelp. They arrived at the scene even before I bravely came running to the rescue. We peered under the wood decking, crouching cautiously to gain a better view.
A long black, green, and yellow garter snake was the reason for my wife’s consternation, but it was the battle that was ensuing that caught the fancy of the rest of us. There was a tug-of-war going on between the snake and a huge, brown, wrinkly toad. The snake had one of the toad’s legs in its hinged mouth and was working hard to envelop the rest of the poor creature — a feat that seemed to me to be impossible.
In a fatherly way, I was a little concerned to have the children take in this morbid scene. The kids simply found the whole thing captivating — although the descriptive words “gross” and “sick” were generously applied. We watched as the snake gained some ground, pulling the toad farther under the wooden porch. Then we watched the toad hop gamely towards the light.
The battle continued for much of the day, and for most of the length of the deck. Though I lost interest after a time and returned to my work, the children exhibited an untiring fascination. They peered through the cracks and gave a running commentary. They cheered for the toad. When I shuffled them off into the cabin for bed that night, the battle