AT THE OLD FAWN ISLAND CABIN, a century next year, we have many photos, mementos and keepsakes adorning the log walls. Sometimes, when it is quiet, or when I am here alone, I wander around and look at them. And remember. And ponder. One item is different from all the others. It is a framed poem, written and given to
EVENING MEAL PREPARATION on Fawn Island while Kathy Ann chills and relaxes. Not really the tradition over the last 30 years, but a very good one to establish. Knee-boarding and waterskiing and dock-diving and fishing also accomplished today, along with suntanning and screen door repair. And some intermittent water-taxi service to and from the harbor leading to Frostbite Falls, Minnesota.
YESTERDAY I posted about Koda-the-Forest-Cat and his supervision of my occasional visits to the outhouse on Fawn Island. Aware of my readers’ lively interest in landscape architecture, I thought I would include here some photos of the structure itself—in all humility one of the finest examples of biffy/necessary place/privy construction on the planet. Our outhouse has a name—the Church of
I AM GOOD at games. Mostly. As long as they don’t involve math. Which actually eliminates a lot of games. In any case, our wonderful friend Alanna is visiting us on Fawn Island, and teaching me how to play Cribbage. Which in my mind is an excellent game to play while sitting on a screen porch overlooking a lake. But
AT THE CHURCH O’ THE ISLAND, things are well. After days of rain, the sky is clear, the breezes light. The congregation—including magnolia warblers and white throated sparrows, flickers and mergansers, deer and grouse and loons—are enjoying the warmth and sunshine. Pin cherries and blueberries set their blossoms. A robin sings cheerio from the shoreline. Koda the forest kitten strolls
AFTER a busy, busy, busy winter and spring, just finished with a second Road Scholar trip and Kathy’s end-of-year piano recital, it feels wonderful to be back at Fawn Island, our retreat on Rainy Lake. Here in what one friend describes as the Dear Old Cabin (100 years old next year) we snuggle in and hide after crossing the big
LAST NIGHT it rained here on Pine Point. In February! Despite the misplaced timing there was a certain satisfaction in awakening at 3:00am and hearing the soft moaning of trees and the steady rhythm of raindrops on the old cabin roof. As I lay there I was reminded of the many nights I have fallen asleep to the lullaby of
WHEN YOU ARE IN LOVE with a place, you are in love with all the times and people, creatures and plants and stones, all the history and memories that make it unique and treasured. That make it your place, of all the places in all the world. The place where memories and dreams, laughter and tears and unspoken feelings come
LAKE LIVING is a privilege, and one that is not as accessible to many as it once was in Minnesota. The days of the modest cabin by the lake where the family could summer, or the small mom and pop resorts where everyone could gather for a week or two, are nearly a thing of the past. Each time we
ON FAWN ISLAND, we now have a new cabin with running water, shower, and flush toilet. Which is great, and makes Kathy Ann happy. Which makes me happy. But I am still fond of the old outhouse, the Church of Peace, the path through the cedars to the shady bower, a site of solitude and meditation whose charms we have