Posts Tagged ‘Wildwood’
All Games
It’s all fun and games at the lake this weekend. The 4th of July celebration at Wildwood is a tradition of classic competitions between teams of bats (blue shirts) and mice (red shirts). Under a spectacular sunny summer sky yesterday, we waged battle of kicking shoes, eating watermelon, tossing water balloons, a sponge brigade, a scavenger hunt, and moving a greased watermelon across a goal line in the lake.
It almost always comes out a tie, but both teams tend to claim victory over the other. I guess that is part of the tradition, too.
There’s a rendition of the National Anthem around the flagpole and a parade up the driveway past all the homes and back again.
The grand finale is a world-class dinner in the lodge after some spectacular appetizers on the lawn out front.
It doesn’t feel like the American political system is all that great lately, but the energy of people celebrating our independence was as great as ever.
Cyndie and I retired early to keep Delilah company in the loft bedroom under the soothing white noise of a loud fan while the banging and popping of small-time fireworks rattled the night.
It feels like a summer holiday.
Saturday evening the immediate family held a rousing tutorial of the game Tripoly with two of Cyndie’s nephews who, to our surprise, somehow made it to their late teens without ever playing the game. It was a stellar first-time exposure as the game involved some major drama in the last two hands.
Two different rare hands were dealt in the final two rounds, but neither player was able to play them out and collect the reward, because another player used up their cards first and ended the rounds.
We dealt a couple of poker hands to divide up the unclaimed chips and Steve’s son, Eric, came out on top. To my great relief, the chips were issued at no cost, so my pocket book was spared the damages that I would have otherwise suffered.
It’s all fun and games, until someone gets hurt.
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Other Views
There used to be two pine trees above the pond fountain, but they were outgrowing the space available and not really thriving, so Cyndie’s parents had them cut down. In a moment of inspiration that is very familiar to me, they chose to leave a few feet of the stumps as pedestals. It’s a perfect spot for a couple of flowering plants.
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With the trees gone, I was able to capture a rare view of the “cabin” from the back side.
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I arrived to the house from that direction because I had been walking through some of the trillium carpeted woods that surround us. This forest is one that feels so perfect for me. There are other natural landscapes over the world that are spectacular, but these trees and all that comes with them resonate the most profoundly with my soul.
I must have spent a few past lives in places just like this. I know the smells and the sounds, the colors, the critters, and the majority of growing plants somewhere deep in the cells of my body.
There are many a days when I dream of what this area was really like when the first tribes of people were able to call this home, long before the time when logging on an epic scale ravaged the growth.
I’m particularly pleased with the “Wildwood” name this property holds. It couldn’t feel more appropriate.
The stroll that brought me through these trees had started down at the beach, below the front side of the house. Camera in hand, I walked onto the footbridge that crosses our little boat lagoon and looked out at the lake and up toward the lodge.
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These are both views I don’t usually capture. As leaves open, the sight lines will become more obscured. The views are no less spectacular, but the camera doesn’t come close to what the eyes perceive.
I will never take for granted how lucky I am to be able to visit this space in person, where I can see, smell, hear, and touch a natural environment to which my soul feels so emotionally attached.
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Much Accomplished
The day started slowly, but gained momentum and became a productive and fruitful one at Wildwood Lodge Club. Cyndie’s family was well represented among the 6 current clans that hold membership in the association. Best of all, not only did the looming possibility of a rainout not happen, there was even some sunshine to bask in while we worked (and played).
The primary effort started with the beach and “boats.” There are canoes, kayaks of a variety of sizes, small sail boats, and standup paddle boards that tend to get parked on the beach. More time was probably spent washing the cobwebs off the chairs that line the beach.
The lake seems high enough again this year to have reduced our sandy strip to a minimum for all the things we put there. First impressions that the water would be uncomfortably cold were altered quickly and led to kids choosing to jump in, which soon led to requests to go tubing behind the speed boat.
Summer might as well be in full swing.
We pulled goals out of storage, which led to me needing to take on Cyndie’s nephews in a little 1-against-2 mini soccer match on my way to helping pull weeds under the playground set. I discovered loose screws that needed wrenching to get that apparatus up to code.
I helped brainstorm a location for a new grill station outside the lodge kitchen, and unloaded pavers when Cyndie’s brother arrived from town with a heavy load. While at the lodge, I stepped up to help dispatch the rejected weeds and rocky dirt that accumulated from a massive clean out of the landscaping by the front steps.
That involved loading them onto a cart and transporting them to a perfect low spot in the woods by the driveway. Extra leftover hostas were moved up to our “cabin,” where Cyndie’s mom has designs to make good use of them.
Our getaway to the lake was feeling an awful lot like a typical day at home tending to 20 acres, with a bonus of the added glorious lake view.
I think my body will be happy to get back to the day-job on Tuesday for some well-earned rest.
In the mean time, my mind is thoroughly enjoying the mental vacation and energizing pleasures of family and friends —people and place— that Wildwood is all about.
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Seriously Tired
I gotta tell you, this not-working-at-the-day-job thing is incredibly exhausting. Between the shortage of sleep every night and the mixture of home chores and lake place entertainment, I am operating under the influence of some serious tired.
Our departure from home yesterday was late enough that I had a chance to finish all the fence trimming I needed to do before we left. The drive up seemed more laborious than necessary due to several traffic hindering repaving projects underway. We ran into a section where the highway crew had laid down oil on the existing surface in preparation of whatever the next step was going to be, and they then directed traffic to drive on it. What choice do you have at that point?
Shortly after that, we met congestion created by workers painting the lines down the center and shoulders of the new asphalt. It seemed as though we were slowing down as soon as we accelerated out of a previous delay.
With little hesitation after arriving to Wildwood, we donned our swimwear and made our way down to the beach. One sure-fire way to reach serious tired is playing a game of “Last person standing” on the floating RAVE Sports Water-Whoosh. You can’t touch the other competitors as you do everything possible, beyond touching, to knock the other participants down.
Much of the exhaustion comes as a result of the non-stop laughter induced by the game. The rest of the exhaustion is caused by needing to repeatedly climb back up on top of the floating platform. Cyndie captured some fun shots of young Marco and me in action:
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It is a good thing that I am away from home for a couple of days, so I can rest. NOT!
Having a blast can be a lot of work, you know.
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Pure Joy
Even though there was much in the way of work being done on the main day of ‘Work Weekend,’ at the lake place we call Wildwood, there was no shortage of fun in the endeavors of the day.
After toiling away on the beach to reclaim the area from the unending processes of Mother Nature to take over our sandy little oasis, I pitched in, literally, to help others in improving the landscape in front of the lodge. The grass grows really well in the spaces near the building where it isn’t wanted, and I assisted with digging it up using a garden fork that looked like a very close relative of the pitch fork that has become one of my primary tools at home. A beautiful array of perennials were planted into the newly turned soil.
Throughout the tasks, conversations blossomed in an annual renewing of connection with members of the community who scatter to their city lives for most of the winter.
Taking a pause from the work, I stopped back to the house where Cyndie was resting her hip and reading a book. I sat with her for a bit, until I noticed she had nodded off into a nap. Figuring I might as well go get my computer to take advantage of the time, I climbed the stairs to our room, finding my laptop beside the great big bed. Since she was already asleep, I figured I didn’t need to take it back downstairs to be in her proximity, and so laid on the bed to check in with the world.
I awoke in a slobbery mess of drool, after a most delicious unplanned nap of my own.
Hearing the words, “soccer game,” I descended the stairs to rejoin humanity and rediscovered how much joy I get from playing the beautiful game. I think it started as 4-v-4, but soon grew to include more people than the space actually allows. Maybe that is why the decision gets made that we won’t use borders, and play continues regardless the fact the ball is within the jungle gym play area, around the SUV parked on the driveway, or even behind the goals, like a game of hockey.
Slowly, in a reverse of how the numbers swelled to the maximum, players wander off to other pursuits, often without saying a thing. After battling situations that feel a lot like playing short-handed in a game of hockey, the game is paused and a player volunteers to switch so play can resume with reasonable balance. In the end, it came down to me facing one last challenge from 6-year-old nephew, Beck, for some 1-v-1.
He said, “Go over to your goal.”
“No, that’s an awful long way away. Let’s just play a small game right here,” I encouraged.
He kicked the ball around me and headed the length of the field to ‘my goal.’ What could I do? I chased after him to protect my goal. He was a tenacious foe and I soon realized he would not quit until he succeeded in getting that ball in the net. I was tired and wanted to be done, so I provided an opportunity. He missed. The ball rolled wide. A few near-misses later, the ball found the target and he was satisfied. Game over.
Pure joy.
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Work Weekend
Awake at the lake! It is always interesting to arrive in the dark of night, and then open your eyes in the morning to see that beautiful lake out the window.
Back at home, the leaves popped overnight Thursday, and I was shocked when I stepped out to feed the horses yesterday and couldn’t see clearly through the trees to the paddocks anymore. Up here, a 2-hour drive to the north, the growth is a few days behind.
The trillium blossoms are just beginning to show.
Memorial weekend at our lake place is traditionally dubbed, “Work Weekend,” as it is the time when the community of families here clean the beach, wash the boats, sweep the tennis courts, and put things in order for summer activities.
It is funny to me now, to think of it as ‘work weekend,’ since it feels a lot like the effort I put forth every day. There is one big difference: the view of that lake makes all the labor feel that much less laborious.
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Relative Something 