Muskoka in January

AS JANUARY MATURES - A WINTER OF GENTLE CARESS

MUSKOKA AS WALDEN

THERE IS A COLD, FOREWARNING, GUSTING OLD WIND THIS MORNING, YET THE TEMPERATURE HAS RISEN STEADILY SINCE SUNRISE. WHAT LOOKED TO BE A LENGTHY PERIOD OF VERY COLD DAYS, HAS APPARENTLY BEEN DISRUPTED BY THE INCONSISTENCIES OF THIS BRAND NEW YEAR. THERE MAY EVEN BE RAIN BEFORE THE WEEK IS OVER, AND FROM THE LONG-RANGE FORECAST, IT APPEARS AS IF THE ENTIRE MONTH WILL BE MUCH LESS THAN THE BRUTALITY WE EXPECT OF A MUSKOKA WINTER.

FOR THOSE WHO SUFFER THE EFFECTS OF LOW LIGHT AT THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, YESTERDAY (SUNDAY) OFFERED HOURS OF SPARKLING SUNSHINE. DESPITE THE COLD, IT WAS A CHEERFUL WINTER DAY IN MUSKOKA, AND THE KIDS WERE OUT PLAYING EARLY IN THE DAY. THIS NEIGHBORHOOD HAS MANY MORE YOUNGSTERS NOW, THAN IT HAS HAD IN THE PAST TEN YEARS, AND IT IS ALWAYS SUCH A PLEASANT CHORUS, TO HEAR THEM LAUGHING OVER IN THE WOODS, SLEDDING, AND FORT BUILDING. I ENJOY THE QUIET OF THE EVENINGS, BUT I THRIVE ON THE SOUNDS OF LIFE AROUND ME, AND SEEING ALL THE ACTIVITY GOING ON OUTDOORS, IS QUITE REJUVENATING TO MIND AND BODY. THE FACT WE HAVEN'T HAD BLIZZARDS AND WAISTE DEEP SNOW, HAS ALLOWED FOR TO WANDER THE PATHWAYS THROUGH THE BOG, AND AFFORDED THE YOUNGSTERS MORE ACCESS TO THE FOREST THAN MOST OTHER TRADITIONAL WINTERS.

I'VE JUST IGNITED ONE OF MY TWO DESK-TOP OIL LAMPS, AS MUCH FOR LIGHT AS EXTRA WARMTH THIS MORNING, AS THE ROOM HERE IS A LITTLE COOLER THAN I LIKE. I REALLY ENJOY WORKING BY THE LIGHT OF THIS TALL FARM LAMP, THAT PRODUCES QUITE A NICE GLOW. I PURCHASED IT AT AN ESTATE AUCTION QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO, AND I'M STILL USING THE ORIGINAL WICK. I NEED TWO OF THEM IN THE EVENING, BUT THERE IS ENOUGH LIGHT COMING THROUGH THE WINDOW NOW, THAT ONE EXTRA LIGHT SOURCE WILL ILLUMINATE THIS KEYBOARD NICELY. I AM CURRENTLY CAT-FREE BUT THEY HAVE A WAY OF READING MORTAL MINDS, YOU SEE, AND I EXPECT THEY'VE ALREADY PICKED UP ON THIS THOUGHT I'VE JUST HAD. SOMETIMES I START THIS WAY, AND WITHOUT REALLY NOTICING IT, BECAUSE OF THIS CADENCE OF FINGERS ON KEYBOARD, I'LL HAVE A LAP OF CATS ALL OF A SUDDEN WITHOUT FEELING THEIR ARRIVALS. I'LL SEE A BLUR OF FUR JUMP UP ON THE DESK TO GET TO THE WINDOW SILL, BUT AS FAR AS MY LAP, I JUST SORT OF EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN, AND FOCUS ON OTHER THINGS AT HAND.

Over the past ten years, I have written a great quantity of editorial material, dealing with this wonderful region of Ontario. In the past two months, I have dedicated myself to the task of portraying Muskoka, and the situation we have here at Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst, as an inspiring, motivating, captivating place in which to write. Since we arrived in this South Muskoka community, in 1989, shifting ten miles south from Bracebridge, I have had the great fortune, as a regional writer / historian, to benefit from the natural surroundings of forest and lowland, so tantalizingly beautiful, framed by this window, in this humble bungalow above the landscape we call "The Bog." There has only been one half year period, since we moved in, that I refused to pen a single editorial piece. Not a poem, letter to the editor of the local press, a short story, historical essay, not even an envelope with a greeting card. I was furious at the publishing industry, and the way I had been treated in its employ. So it was my self imposed hiatus of anger. As ridiculous as it was, to punish myself for the disputes with publishers, gradually, looking out this same window, upon virtually the same scene, I found myself, at the very least, sitting in this chair and pondering what I might like to write…….should I ever resume where I left off.

I sat right here, in the yellow glow of this same oil lamp, as in that winter hiatus of 1991, and read Stephen Leacock's "Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town." The scene from here, a couple of cats, a pot of tea, and a good book, drained away that character stubbornness, and before long, I found reason to tap away again……just for fun, representing what this window framed of my Muskoka. I returned to writing because of this place, The Bog across the lane, and the embrace of neighborhood. I began writing what I call landscape pieces, for my own file, and not for publication. It took much longer to get interested in having this material published. When I did re-enter the print media, I did so on my own terms, with my own exit strategy, should I ever again fall out with the plethora of editors and publishers I seldom ever agreed with……on anything, except the needs of the readership to be informed and entertained. Once I began, I've only ever paused due to seasonal demands of the family antique business. From the fall harvest to the blooming of the lilacs in the front garden, I spend time wandering the Muskoka lakeland, and then pleasantly hole-up here, at my well worn desk, writing madly about the place on this earth that gives me such a creative push……that none of the composition seems anything akin to actual work. I enjoy it too much for it to be considered a workday effort. I'm too comfortable, and relaxed at this keyboard, to think of writing as anything but play…….just as the children stomp over snowy ground, and slide down the icy slopes on new sleds they got for Christmas. At times, you know, there's too much to write about…..too many reasons to use up all this lamp oil, staying at this desk until the dinner hour……depicting, portraying, a hinterland that has always been so giving to a writer in residence. On many occasions I return here after everyone has retired for the evening, and have spent hours looking out over the tranquil evening scene, moonlit on some nights, murky and only lamp-lit on others. I've watched storms pound this place, and felt wind rattling the whole structure of Birch Hollow, heard the deep cracks of subzero temperatures rattling the timbers, and I've never been, as they say, at a loss for words.

It is a dark morning, with a brisk wind, and I expect we will see some snow before long. I will be able to see the first tumble of wind-blown snow, coming up from the valley of Muskoka Bay, rising up over the treed hillside, and then settling down over this lowland of venerable old pines and leaning birches, stately maples and a huge oak near the opening of the path. Soon the snow will take over the scene, and it will paint this landscape as if by artist's brush, and the mood will change for the balance of the day. I have been studying Muskoka for decades, since arriving here with my family as a wide-eyed kid, in the winter of 1966. Ever since, I have been a willing captive, of its powerful aura, of which I contently refuse an escape. I am pleasantly compelled to visit those woods each day, and pack down the winding trail stretching into The Bog. I will dawdle and find things to study close-up, listen to the trickle of water still running under the ice, down in The Bog, and watch the wind as it caresses the old cattails, the brown summer grasses, and wavers the huge evergreen boughs on the far side of the basin. I will be distracted by the hoot of an owl, the flitting of squirrels chasing each other in the overhead limbs, and listen to the squawks of the crows on the dead tree, where they like to roost. Eventually, I will get chilled, and return to re-ignite this oil lamp, and sip hot tea, sit and admire the view from here……and eventually, tap again at the keyboard, as a painter returning to brush and paint, and hope, to be worthy of the task, to represent what I have witnessed of natural Muskoka……my mistress eternal.

At this morning's end…..I have cats Chutney and Zappa on my lap, wee Angus on the window sill….helping me enjoy the day.