I woke up this morning dreaming of rock and water. I grew up spending summers at my grand-parent’s cottage, first on Tea Lake near the Severn River, and then on Go Home Lake off Highway 69. So, I grew up running around in bare feet on hard, smooth granite that plunged into cool, fresh water lakes. I can feel the hot rock beneath my feet. I can see it in my mind’s eye; grey and black and pink with white quartz fissures and black speckles that sparkle in the sunlight. We have not had a holiday this summer and likely will not, but it does not stop me from dreaming. I poured over cottage rental websites today looking for the ideal cottage; one built on a sheet of granite that slides into tea-brown water. I want to run down the rock and dive into cold water; no grassy slopes and sandy beaches for me.
The long heat wave is to blame. It has been years since I had this longing for a georgian bay cottage. We usually camp in the summers somewhere across the country. So this time of year, I am usually anticipating a camping trip adventure built around oceans, wildlife, mountains and redwoods. In my mind, I return, time and time again, to the giant redwood forests and tidal pools on the west coast of Vancouver Island, to the Killer Whales in Robson Byte, to the mountain goats, bear and wapati in Banff and Jasper National Parks, or to the Humpback Whales and Puffins in Newfoundland. But, not this year; this year, the staggering hot days and muggy humid nights have me dreaming of sweet water and granite. They have me drinking coffee on the end of a dock with feet dangling in a cool lake. They have me skimming across the water in a canoe with paddles dipping silently into dark water. They have me floating in cool, dark water; mind quiet and body awake.