Memories Don’t Bite

I have often mentioned my grandmother’s cottage and how much it meant to me that I was able to go there and be able to wander and explore at leisure. I have thought that if money were no object, I would try and buy that property to give my grandkids an experience like I had growing up. I am getting older and so are my grandkids and it doesn’t look good for that dream, so I will have to do the best with what I have.

Of course I only remember the good times and none of the bad. Come to think about it, there were very, very, very few bad times. I was a kid after all and lucky for me I had parents that felt that kids should be able to cling to childhood without having to do …chores. Perhaps it was living through the depression when they were young or dad’s time in prison camp. Maybe it was just a magical confluence of the planets. Thankfully I was able to live in those times.

Not everything was perfect of course. It was the country and there were flying pests that lived to suck blood. Sometimes the mosquitoes would drive me inside the cottage. Gram waged war on any place that she thought would harbour the noxious bugs and anything that ate mosquitoes were encouraged to thrive. Hence I was never allowed to hunt down snakes, frogs or bats. I was behind Gram 100% but the boy in me needed to capture frogs and snakes if at all possible. I had some success and managed to practice “catch and release” before it became a popular thing to do.

 

I am very nostalgic about cottage country. A friend recently spent a week or so enjoying springtime in southern Ontario’s lake country. From what I understand, she and her husband had a wonderful time even though it was just a little too cool for swimming. She did mention that the bugs were out in force. When I think of bugs, I think of mosquitoes. Age and fading memory has spared me from Deer flies, Horse flies and black flies which would take small parts of me to eat. The mosquitoes were a constant bother, but those other flies I always felt would devour me down to the bone if given the opportunity.

Lucky for me, dad was one of those people that seemed to attract anything and everything that lived on other beings blood. I say lucky because I would imagine that he would find reasons not to go to the cottage during the worst of bug season. I wasn’t privy to those decisions, but dad was pretty clever.

I’m glad that my friends had a good vacation, but I don’t think I could enjoy leaving parts of myself flying around southern Ontario. I guess I should be happy with my memories, they don’t bite.