An Evening At Fireside After A Day Touring Muskoka

Enjoying some end of the season ice fishing on Lake Muskoka.   Beautiful sunshine, crisp air, and the anticipation of snagging a prize fish! (photo by Fred Schulz)

MUSKOKA AS WALDEN

AN EVENING MY FIRESIDE HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW

     WE HAVE BEEN OUT HUNTING AND GATHERING FOR MOST OF SUNDAY. IT HAS BEEN A TYPICAL SPRING DAY, WITH A COLD BLOWING RAIN, SOMBRE SKY, AND THE KIND OF BLUSTER, THAT TAKES HATS LIKE MINE FOR A FROLIC DOWN THE LANE. SO I TOOK THE CAP OFF, AND THREW IT IN MY POCKET, AS I'M NOT AS NIMBLE AS I USED TO BE…..BEING ABLE TO CHASE IT THROUGH PARKING LOTS, AND DOWN DUSTY STREETS WITH LOTS OF ONCOMING TRAFFIC. IT WAS A "CLOSE YOUR EYES," SPRING DAY, FENDING AGAINST CLOUDS OF SAND BEING DRIFTED ALONG THE STREETS.

     SUZANNE AND I BOTH HAVE THE SHIVERS NOW, FROM BEING WET, COLD AND WINDBLOWN THIS AFTERNOON, AND IT'S QUITE A REWARD, EARLY IN THE EVENING, TO HAVE THIS OLD HEARTH AND FIREPLACE TO COZY UP TO…….WITH SOFT MUSIC AND A GOOD BOOK. WE LOVE OUR TRAVELS. AND WE REALLY LIKE IT WHEN WE PULL BACK THROUGH THE GATES OF TOWN, MOTOR DOWN THE FAMILIAR MAIN STREET, AND TURN UP THIS NARROW LANE TO BIRCH HOLLOW…..ANTIQUE TREASURES IN TOW. AS SOON AS I FINISH THIS EVENING'S "WALDEN" BLOG, I SHALL RETREAT THERE IMMEDIATELY, AND RIGHTLY ASSUME THE TEAPOT, IN MY FAVOR…….AND POOR A RESTORATIVE CUP OF STEAMING HOT BREW, FOR THE DRIVER OF TODAY'S MOTOR TRIP.

     ONE OF THE MOST RELAXING, END OF THE DAY EXERCISES FOR ME, IS TO SIT AT THIS KEYBOARD, A SHORT DISTANCE FROM THAT CRACKLING FIRE, AND RECALL THE EVENTS OF THE DAY. IT'S ALWAYS A SENTIMENTAL "HOME TIME," FOR ME, AS SUZANNE AND I DISCUSS THE ENJOYMENTS OF THE PAST WEEKEND, AND READY OURSELVES FOR THE CHALLENGES OF THE WEEK. AS A SOON TO BE RETIRED TEACHER, AFTER THIRTY-ONE YEARS ON THE JOB, AT BOTH BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA LAKES SECONDARY SCHOOL, AND GRAVENHURST HIGH SCHOOL, SHE REALIZES THE IMPORTANCE OF ENJOYING THESE FINAL DAYS OF THE TERM. ALTHOUGH SHE REALIZES THE HUGE CHANGE OF PACE SHE WILL BE FACING, SOON ENOUGH, THE SENTIMENTALITY OF IT ALL HAS BEEN SLOW TO SETTLE IN, AND WHILE WE TALK ABOUT THE TRANSITION, IT'S JUST SOMETHING THAT WILL ARRIVE SLOWLY AND PROFOUNDLY, ONE DAY IN EARLY JUNE……WHEN SHE REALIZES IT WON'T BE THE SAME KIND OF "GOODBYE" SHE HAS ALWAYS HAD FOR RETURNING STUDENTS THE NEXT SEPTEMBER. SHE'S A PRETTY TOUGH COOKIE, BUT BEING EMBRACED BY HER STUDENTS, AS THEY HAVE DONE IN THE PAST, AT THE END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR, IS GOING TO "WATER THE GARDEN," ME THINKS. SHE IS A TEACHER TWENTY-FOUR-SEVEN, AND I WILL BE HER NEW PROJECT FOR THE COMING YEARS.

     IF THERE WAS ANY DISTURBANCE OF HOME SPIRITS THIS WEEKEND, IT WAS WHEN I HANDED HER A RETIREMENT GET-TOGETHER INVITATION, FROM HER EMPLOYER, THE TRILLIUM LAKELANDS BOARD OF EDUCATION…….THAT WAS ADDRESSED TO, "MRS. SUZANNE CURRIER," GRAVENHURST, ONTARIO. I MADE LIGHT OF THE SITUATION, AND ASKED HER IF SHE WAS, IN FACT, RELATED TO A MR. IVES, OF THE FAMOUS "CURRIER & IVES," WHICH DIDN'T GO OVER TOO WELL. AFTER THIRTY-ONE YEARS, THESE KIND OF INTIMATE ERRORS HAVE LITTLE HUMOR ATTACHED, AND TRUTH BE KNOWN, SHE WON'T ATTEND THE FUNCTION BECAUSE OF THE ERROR. SHE'S A STICKLER AS A TEACHER, AND WILL BE AS A CIVILIAN.

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS

     Suzanne (Currier), out of great compassion, has just this moment brought me a couple of freshly baked cookies, and a cup of tea. She has no idea that I've included a passage about her retirement, in this evening's blog……but I couldn't resist. I'm as mad as she is, that they couldn't spell her name on an official invitation. I was invited to a local heritage event, not so long ago, as "Ted Curren," and I also didn't attend. We're fussy beggars, but we're too old to change now. Don't invite us places if you can't spell our names.

     There are crumbs and at least one chocolate chip that have landed on the keyboard, and a spot of tea has made a nasty wet mark on a financial document Suzanne left behind earlier. The wind is still rattling the window pane, and some of the furniture on the verandah. The firelight is drawing me closer, and the warmth radiating is finally removing the relentless shiver. There's a cat on my lap, and another interested in lodging up on my shoulder, but the warmth is rather nice despite the claws sinking into my skin. Their purring makes me so deeply relaxed, I'm very likely to slumber-off right at this keyboard. These are the real creature comforts of our tiny Muskoka home, looking out over The Bog, from the treed knoll of Birch Hollow.

     I will soon retire to bedlam, with a well worn favorite book, as it will be a busy week of composition, as many of my column obligations are closing in on deadlines, and I find myself with no plan "B," this time, to fill the copy void. Thanks for taking a few extra minutes in your day, as a writer winds-down his…..at this portal, looking out onto the evening silhouette of our Muskoka hinterland. See you again soon.

   

Taking The Slow Road To Somewhere

The Narrows Lighthouse, Lake Muskoka (photos by Fred Schulz)

THE PROBLEM ASSOCIATED WITH THE OPEN ROAD IN MUSKOKA

I JUST WANT TO GO…….AND GO…..

     "HOW CALM AND QUIET A DELIGHT

IS IT ALONE,

TO READ AND MEDITATE AND WRITE,

BY NONE OFFENDED AND OFFENDING NONE!

TO WALK, RIDE, SIT OR SLEEP, AT ONE'S OWN EASE;

AND, PLEASING A MAN'S SELF, NONE OTHER TO DISPLEASE."

(CHARLES COTTON, FRIEND OF ISAAK WALTON, 1650)

     THERE ARE A FEW DAYS LIKE THIS EVERY MONTH, WHEN WANDERLUST OVERPOWERS THE STRICT OBLIGATIONS OF THE DAY. THE REASONS TO CARRY ON OUR MOTOR-TRIP SEEM FAR MORE COMPELLING, THAN RETURNING TO WHAT WE CAN ONLY RECOGNIZE, AS THE DAILY TOIL. THE OLD GRIND. AND EVEN THOUGH IT IS A BUSINESS OF OUR OWN CREATION, IT STILL KEEPS US MOST OFTEN, FROM ROAMING THIS AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL COUNTRYSIDE…..AS WE MOST DEFINITELY AND PASSIONATELY DESIRE.

     NOW PLEASE, DON'T GET ME WRONG. WE LOVE OUR WORK AND PLACE OF BUSINESS, AND IT WOULDN'T BE WRONG TO SAY THAT IT HAS BEEN A "DREAM COME TRUE," TO HAVE THIS FAMILY INDUSTRY, IN THE OLD MOVIE THEATRE, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BUSINESS COMMUNITY……IN OUR OWN HOME TOWN. IT'S LIKE WE'VE BECOME THE GRAVENHURST "WALTONS" AND IT'S (LIFE ON WALTON'S MOUNTAIN) PRETTY CLOSE TO THE WAY WE LIVE AND WORK THESE DAYS. BUT THERE ARE TIMES WHEN THAT RAGING WAVE OF THULE COMES ALONG, WITH ITS NORDIC PULL, AND COMMANDS US TO CARRY ON THE ADVENTURE AT ALL COSTS. WE REGRET THIS, ESPECIALLY IF WE'VE CAUSED YOU ANY INCONVENIENCE, PULLING ON THE SHOP DOOR, TO FIND US TARDY FROM THE MILL-WHEEL. IT'S JUST WHO WE ARE, AND WE BEG OUR CUSTOMER'S FORGIVENESS, BUT WON'T, CAN'T, OFFER ANY CONTRACT THAT WILL GUARANTEE, WE WILL BE OPEN AT A PRECISE TIME EVERY DAY; RAIN OR SHINE, SNOW OR DROUGHT, SUB-ZERO TEMPERATURES, OR A HEAT WAVE. WE WILL GET THERE EVENTUALLY, AND WE ARE FULLY AWARE THE BUSINESS COMMUNITY AT LARGE THINKS WE'RE UNRELIABLE AND A TAD IRRESPONSIBLE. LET'S JUST SAY, IT'S NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS, DESPITE WHAT THEY MIGHT BELIEVE TO THE CONTRARY. IN FACT, AND THIS IS THE INSIDE SCOOP……..OUR BOYS, ANDREW AND ROBERT WILL OFTEN WORK WELL INTO THE NIGHT, WITH THEIR STUDENTS AND SPECIAL RECORDING GIGS. THIS IS AFTER A FULL DAY MANNING THE SHOP. SOMETIMES WE JUST HAVE TO GET AWAY FOR A MORNING, MAYBE EVEN SEVERAL TIMES EACH WEEK, JUST TO KEEP THE WHOLE WORK COMMITMENT, OF SENSIBLE PROPORTION.

     IN THE FIRST PLACE, OUR FAMILY BUSINESS WAS DESIGNED TO FIT TWO IMPORTANT NEEDS. FIRST, IT WAS THOUGHTFULLY CONCEIVED TO BE GAINFUL EMPLOYMENT FOR TWO HOMETOWN KIDS, WHO WANTED TO RE-INVEST IN THEIR COMMUNITY. SECONDLY, BUT NOT FAR BEHIND, WAS A COMMITMENT TO MAKE WORK AS MUCH A RECREATIONAL PURSUIT, AND CULTURAL FOR THAT MATTER, AS A FOR-PROFIT ENTERPRISE. FOR EIGHT YEARS, THIS HAS WORKED BRILLIANTLY. THEY HAVE MORE EXPANSION PLANS FOR LATER THIS SPRING. I HAVE MORE DEVIOUS STRATEGIES IN THE WORKS, TO GIVE THEM MORE TIME OFF, AND SOME NEEDED LEISURE…….SO THEY DON'T WIND UP HATING WHAT THEY LOVE TODAY.

     There is however, added to this, that family weakness we are gratefully afflicted, placing the open road, any road or country lane, as a great temptation to explore. It's often the case we are influenced by its rolling, turning, shaded or snow-laden appearance, making us veer away suddenly, from the commonplaces and schedules of our pre-arranged seconds, minutes and hours. We've travelled down hundreds of "roads less travelled," in our family times which we still cherish. This morning, on the way to our collective business meeting, and inventory pick-up from a supplier, we had no choice but to follow our spring enhanced hearts, and dawdle; engage ourselves in sightseeing here in this tranquil and picturesque hinterland. We came to a gradual stop, on Muskoka Beach Road, in Gravenhurst, to let two deer and a fawn cross over, and rather enjoyed the sight of their graceful but powerful leaps up the still snow-covered hillside.

     A couple of kilometers further south, we had to stop again, for two plump partridges, that had settled down for some reason, in the middle of the road. As they weren't particularly anxious to move out of the way, we put our schedule on hold, and sat their until they eventually crossed from the sunny spot, to the dark shaded roadside, banked by scruffy cedars. When they had safely crossed we slowly moved  along, and when we looked back, they had both waddled back to where they had been positioned…..in a sunny patch that was clear of snow.

     A little further along, we saw the hind-end of a small black bear, climbing the hillside behind the seasonal dumpsters, situated at the Ennis Bay intersection. This little fellow had enjoyed the bonanza of bags of garbage left outside the metal containers, and I'm afraid it left a substantial mess for the attendants when they arrive for trash pick-up.

     All along this winding country road, connecting Bracebridge and Gravenhurst, were the most splendid pastoral and woodland scenes, enhanced by venerable crows and owls, lodging in the boughs of gnarled pines, and on the top of askew, rotting fence posts, remnants of a farm pasture from another era. There are curling, sun and shadow bathed trails, worn down in the snow by animal travels, winding deep into the hollows where narrow, crystalline brooks tumble over the smooth rocks of Muskoka history. A fox or rabbit might pop out from the cover of fallen, moss covered logs. I have seen many rabbits along this stretch of roadway, so we always drive slowly, so as not to hit one suddenly crossing the lane.

     It was all so alluring to a couple of work-weary voyeurs, out for a morning drive in the region we call home. We could have made a day of this wandering "Thule" induced adventure, but we were able to convince ourselves slowly, it was the right thing to do…..to return in a timely fashion, as young Robert was in charge of the shop in our absence. There is so much to see of spring's slow emergence, beneath this day's azure sky, full of so much promise and energy. The intense pockets of sunlight, breaking through the canopy of evergreens, has melted away the woodland snow, and tiny shoots of new growth can already be detected, pushing up through the wet soil. I imagine Thoreau would have investigated this rejuvenation much closer, than us today, in area of his Walden Pond cabin. But in this harried pace to get back to the business of the day…..well, we have dawdled long enough. We have had, at least, twelve cars and four trucks pass us, in the ten miles of roadway between towns. We've let them move on in their day's schedule by simply pulling to the shoulder of the road. At the very least, we were determined to make the most of this several hour, morning sojourn, beyond the blunt capitalism inherent to successful business. It was a father and son…..two travelers of the open road, wishing we could carry on the journey……to nowhere in particular. This is the powerful pull of spring on the heartstrings……especially in Muskoka.

     "I only thought to make

I know not what; nor did I undertake

Thereby to please my neighbor; no, not I;

I did it my own self, to gratify."

     Thank you for visiting with photographer Fred Schulz and I on this fine spring day. Please call again, as we are always pleased to have your company.

My Outdoor Affections Can Be Attributed To My Mother

Image of Muskoka Road For The Santa Clause Parade Pre Main Street Fires (Photos By Fred Schulz)

I BLAME MY MOTHER FOR MY OUTDOOR AFFECTIONS

"YOU SHOULD BE OUTSIDE GETTING SOME FRESH AIR," SHE USED TO SAY, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND ME

     MERLE CURRIE, BLESS HER SOUL, BELIEVED HER SON SHOULD PLAY OUTSIDE. ON NON-SCHOOL DAYS, SHE WOULD GET ME UP EARLY, PROVIDE BREAKFAST, GIVE ME THE WARNINGS FOR THE MORNING PLAY PERIOD, AND AFTER THE PROPER APPAREL HAD BEEN WRAPPED AROUND HER SON, THE DOOR WOULD OPEN, AND SHORT OF KICKING MY BEHIND, IT WAS MY CUE TO EXIT STAGE LEFT OR RIGHT. IN THE EVENT OF RAIN, SHE HAD NUMEROUS RAIN COATS AVAILABLE.

     I WAS A DESTRUCTIVE WEE LAD IN THE HOUSE, AND SHE WAS A NEAT FREAK HER ENTIRE LIFE. POSSIBLY SHE LOOKED AT ME, STANDING OVER ANOTHER BROKEN CRYSTAL DISH, AS HER PUNISHMENT FOR NOT ATTENDING CHURCH REGULARLY IN ADULTHOOD. MERLE HAD A BAD TEMPER AND I REALLY DIDN'T LIKE WHEN IT ERUPTED LIKE A VOLCANO, WITH A SPLIT SECOND TO MOVE OUT OF THE DANGER ZONE, SO IT WAS MUCH EASIER ON BOTH OF US, IF I DID MY DISAPPEARING ACT, COMING HOME FOR LUNCH OR DINNER. IT GOT TO THE POINT, I WOULD HAVE SLEPT OUT UNDER THE STARS, EXCEPT IN THE WINTER MONTHS OF COURSE, BECAUSE I ENJOYED IT SO MUCH OUT THERE……THE SENSE OF FREEDOM FROM THE CHAINS OF CHILDHOOD……HAVING TO GO TO SCHOOL BECAUSE IT WAS ALSO REPORTEDLY GOOD FOR ME. WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE GIRLS I HAD A CRUSH ON, THROUGH MANY GRADES, I HATED EVERY DAY IN THOSE BOXES THEY CALLED CLASSROOMS. I HAVE TO BE CAREFUL WITH THIS ASSESSMENT, BECAUSE MY WIFE WORKS IN ONE OF THOSE STUFFY CLASSROOMS, TRYING TO HELP HER STUDENTS MOVE ON, AND UP, IN THEIR LIFE ADVENTURES.

     I THINK SOME OTHER MOTHERS ON THE BLOCK, USED TO THINK MY MOTHER WAS KIND OF CRUEL, TOSSING ME OUT EARLY IN THE MORNING. I DIDN'T CARE TOO MUCH FOR SATURDAY CARTOONS ANYWAY, AND AS I HAD EXPERIENCED ONE SICKNESS AFTER ANOTHER IN MY EARLY YEARS, BEING CONFINED JUST MADE ME MORE FRUSTRATED……BUT AGREEABLE TO ANY DEAL THAT WOULD ALLOW ME TO ROAM RATHER FREELY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. THIS WAS INITIALLY ON THE BANKS OF RAMBLE CREEK, IN BURLINGTON, IN THE YEARS BEFORE MY TENTH BIRTHDAY, AND THEN UP TO MOUNTAIN GARDENS, ON BURLINGTON'S BRANT STREET, FOR A SHORT PERIOD, BEFORE ARRIVING ON BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO'S ALICE STREET…….AN OLD WORKING CLASS NEIGHBORHOOD ON HUNT'S HILL. THE NEIGHBORS, THE POOR BASTARDS, HAD TO PUT UP WITH ME FOR MOST OF THE DAY. I WAS JUST ABOUT THE MOST INTRUSIVE KID YOU COULD ASK FOR…..IF BEING INTRUSIVE WAS AN ASSET.

     IF YOU WERE A HOME COOK, AND PLACED A FRESHLY BAKED PIE ON A WINDOW LEDGE, I COULD FIND IT. AS A PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE, THE HOUSE MOM WOULD MEET ME HALF WAY, AND OFFER A LITTLE "PROTECTION" SLICE, IF I'D AGREE TO STAY AWAY FROM THE FULL PIES. I MIGHT EVEN GET COOKIES AS A LITTLE BONUS FOR MY WILLINGNESS TO BOTHER OTHER NEIGHBORS INSTEAD. THE POINT OF THIS, IS THAT FROM A YOUNG AGE, I WAS NOT ONLY A "WILD CHILD," BUT A CHILD IN THE WILD. I HAD SOME GREAT PLACES TO ESCAPE TO, LIKE BAMFORD'S WOODS, THE GROVE, THE SANDPIT BEHIND THE WEBER APARTMENTS, THE HYDRO FIELD, UP ON BAYSVILLE ROAD, AND DOWN AT BASS ROCK, WHERE WE USED TO SWIM IN THE RAW. IF YOU WERE A HOMEOWNER IN THE VICINITY OF THESE LOCATIONS, I PROBABLY TRESPASSED THROUGH YOUR BACKYARD, PATIO, OR GARDEN. I ONCE PICKED A HALF DOZEN NICELY RIPENED BEAF STEAK TOMATOES, AND WITHOUT WASHING THEM, FINISHED OFF THE WORKS IN MY FORT. LET'S JUST SAY, SHORT OF THE BOWEL SYNDROME ASSOCIATE WITH LITTLE GREEN APPLES, I WAS CLEANSED OF ALL THE TOXINS IN MY BODY…..FOR ABOUT A WEEK AFTER. I CAN'T BLAME IT ON MY MOTHER FOR SETTING ME LOOSE ON THE NEIGHBORS. SHE WAS JUST SAVING HERSELF, POOR SOUL. BE THANKFUL THE CURRIES WEREN'T YOUR NEIGHBORS BACK THEN. WHEN FOLKS SAW ME EMERGE FROM THE FRONT DOOR OF 129 ALICE STREET, THEY MADE THE GESTURE OF CROSSING THEIR HEARTS, PRAYING, HOPING AGAINST HOPE, I WAS GOING TO PLAY SOMEWHERE ELSE FOR THE DAY.

MY SELF IMPOSED EXILE AT BIRCH HOLLOW

     About ten years ago, during a hugely oppressive heat wave, to hit Muskoka, I packed up my sleeping gear, my small portable radio, assorted survival snacks (beer and wine) and hit the verandah where I slept until the first snow of autumn. I think I made it through Indian Summer than year, with an upgraded sleeping bag. I suppose it does go back to childhood, and my expansive budget of outdoor hours. Extreme to most, but not enough for me. I've camped in Algonquin enough times, to appreciate the comforts of wide open spaces on the pent-up soul. It's no surprise then, that my favorite artist, is Tom Thomson.

    Suzanne likes the heat, and it makes me nuts when she basks in the sun, when I'm wilting in the shade. So I told her it was nothing personal, but my cot on the verandah was the most comfortably cool place in the house. I took the dog, a bottle of ice tea and some potato chips, and began my summer season sojourn, residing just above the lush ferns and wildflowers at Birch Hollow. She wasn't mad at me, because she clearly understood what it was like to sleep beside a sweating man with his face inches from an electric fan. As Suzanne can not sleep with the sound of a fan, she admits, it was sad to see me go, but much easier to get a good night's sleep. We had an amicable agreement. She would come out if I began screaming "Bear, Bear, Bear," but you know, we never discussed wolves, fishers, moose or rogue deer in that emergency alert. Son Robert used to remind me about those videos depicting "animals gone wild," and how I might be ravaged by a troop of chipmunks while I slept…..or harvested by aliens, looking for a little fun probing. 

     The first night out, on top of that luscious garden, with such enchanting perfume teasing my nostrils, I awoke in the middle of the night, to find an intoxicated party goer, a neighbor lady, thrashing through the fern cover. When I raised my head, expecting a bear to lash out with long claws, all I could see was this wildly flung blond hair, and what certainly sounded like human cursing, as she fell two or three times trying to get out of the shallow depression in the fern garden. We eventually met face to face. "Excuse me miss, this is my bedroom." She shrieked just before she fell one last time, in the mire of periwinkle and ground cover. "Sorry sir, I was just taking a short cut," she said, trying to put her dress back down from its rather revealing shoulder-height extension. Without further adieu, she stumbled back from where she came from, tumbling at least twice while back-tracking. I suppose she made it out of the garden because I didn't find any remains while gardening the next day. This was my first outdoor, night-time encounter with a neighbor who was just like me……..as a kid; just a tad old to be doing the childlike trespass thing.

     Truthfully, I was writing twice as much in those days, and the outdoor venue was perfect for my own creative energy. The folks in our bailiwick would hear the cadence of the typewriter keys, at all times of day and night, and either wave or yell a greeting, as they passed by, while on walks and jogs up and down the boulevard. It was kind of neat actually. I was the neighborhood writer outside-of-residence. I truly loved laying on that open verandah, listening to nature's evening show…..and of course the parties occurring all around us. I'd awake to the smell of Suzanne's famous scones, fresh out of the oven, and her magnificent coffee, and the very sweet smells of a Muskoka morning courtesy all the wildflowers, the ferns and leaves, that so nicely shaded my outdoor bedroom from the summer sun. It was in fact, one of my most prolific writing periods, and I'm still benefitting from my sojourn in the semi wilds of Calydor Subdivision. I had to come in eventually, when the colder weather moved in that autumn season, and the family of raccoons kept raiding my stash of snacks at bedside. They'd get ugly if I had rice chips instead of the good stuff.

     I have seen Muskoka naked, all times of the day and night. I liked what I saw. I will never forget the thrill of that experience. Never.

Snow Machines We've Known in Muskoka and Other Stuff

"I love the word "Vintage" but never thought it would apply to the same kind of snowmobiles that I grew up with in Kilworthy.   My Brother Lawrence, who has a few years on me, purchased one of the first Ski Doo snowmobiles that was shipped to Ontario from the original Bombardier factory in Dorval Quebec.   It was one of those moments in my life that you never forgot and wonder if it could even be matched in today's busy lives.    The arrival of this strange looking, bright yellow, machine that would transport us to the various cottages on the smaller lakes to shovel cottage roofs was as exciting as a rocket ship or magical time-machine.    Visiting the Vintage Snowmobile collection at Grace and Speed last year brought back a flood of wonderful memories of winter's in the early 60's in Kilworthy. Do you remember when you saw your first snowmobile?   What a magical invention in those early days, but I never gave up my snowshoes! " - Quote and photos by Fred Schulz

Pioneer Church Yards and those Who Came Before Us

"The Cooper's Falls Road is actually on the dividing point of two Municipalities.   On the south side is Ramara Township and on the North Side is the Town of Gravenhurst.    The historic St. George's Anglican Church sites on the most southern boundary of The Town of Gravenhurst.    Many folks childhood memories attending church where my Grandmother Susan Cooper was the Organist from 1911 - 1981, dedicated to playing the old pump organ until well into her 90's. Historic Cemetery were many of the pioneers and early settlers are buried." - Photos and quote by Fred Schulz

THE PIONEER CHURCH YARDS AND THOSE WHO CAME BEFORE US

EARLY DAYS OF MUSKOKA

     I HAD AN ADVANTAGE, AS A YOUNG WRITER / HISTORIAN, TO HAVE BEEN IMBEDDED, AT THE RIGHT TIME IN MY CAREER, INTO A COLLECTIVE OF INDIVIDUALS WHO KNEW MUSKOKA BETTER THAN MOST. THEY WERE HISTORIANS LIKE ROBERT J. BOYER AND GARY DENNISS, BOTH OF BRACEBRIDGE, WHO OFFERED INFORMED GLIMPSES OF OUR EARLIEST YEARS OF SETTLEMENT. THEY PROVIDED ME WITH MANY RESOURCES, AND THE TOOLS FOR ONGOING RESEARCH, THAT GAVE ME A HEAD START AS A FLEDGLING HISTORIAN……TRYING TO MAKE SENSE OF WHAT MADE MUSKOKA SO INTERESTING TO SO MANY.

     WHEN I BEGAN AS A ROOKIE REPORTER, IN WEST MUSKOKA, WORKING FOR THE MUSKOKA LAKES-GEORGIAN BAY BEACON, IT WAS MY ASSIGNMENT, ON MANY WEEKENDS THROUGH THE YEAR, TO ACCOMPANY M.P. STAN DARLING AND M.P.P. FRANK MILLER, AROUND MY HALF OF MUSKOKA, AS THEY ATTENDED SPECIAL EVENTS, SUCH AS COMMUNITY MEETINGS, MILESTONE WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES, BIRTHDAYS, SERVICE CLUB DINNERS, AND EVEN BUSINESS OPENINGS. I WAS THE PHOTOGRAPHER FOR HUNDREDS OF THESE EVENTS OVER MY YEARS IN THE COMMUNITY PRESS, WHICH BY THE EARLY 1980'S, BECAME A MUCH WIDER ZONE OF COVERAGE, WHEN I TOOK OVER DUTIES AS THE EDITOR OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE IN BRACEBRIDGE.

     WHAT MY TRAVELS WITH OUR ELECTED MEMBERS OF RESPECTIVE PARLIAMENTS, TAUGHT ME, WAS THAT I DIDN'T KNOW AS MUCH ABOUT MUSKOKA AS I HAD ASSUMED. JUST WHEN I'D GET COCKY, AND FEEL AS IF I WAS FULLY AWARE OF MY HOME DISTRICT, I'D LEARN DIFFERENTLY, WHEN VISITING THE HOMES, RESORTS, AND BUSINESSES BELONGING TO MUSKOKANS…….WITH MANY STORIES TO TELL, ABOUT THEIR OWN RELATIONSHIP AND FAMILY HISTORY WITH THE HINTERLAND DISTRICT. I LISTENED ATTENTIVELY TO CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN MR. DARLING, MR. MILLER AND THE CONSTITUENTS THEY WOULD MEET AT THESE EVENTS, AND EVEN THE "SMALL TALK" PROVIDED HUGE INSIGHTS TO WHO THESE PEOPLE WERE……AND WHY THEY ALSO LOVED OUR DISTRICT. WITH THESE TWO DISTINGUISHED REPRESENTATIVES, I HAD A CHANCE TO EXPERIENCE MUSKOKA FROM A DIFFERENT ANGLE THAN I HAD BEEN USED TO, AND I CONSIDER IT MY BASE OF KNOWLEDGE EVEN TODAY. I WOULDN'T HAVE GOT THIS KIND OF RAW BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION FROM THE BOOKS PUBLISHED ON LOCAL HISTORY. THIS HAD BEEN A RARE OPPORTUNITY TO SHARE THE HOSPITALITY OF MUSKOKANS, FROM ONE END OF THE DISTRICT TO THE OTHER, AND IT WAS AT THE END OF MY YEARS ON THE BEAT, THAT I COULD TRULY BUILD RESEARCH ONTO WHAT I KNEW WAS A SECURE FOUNDATION, OF FIRST HAND KNOWLEDGE, OF FAMILY HISTORIES CONNECTED TO MUSKOKA. I SAW THESE FOLKS IN MANY DIFFERENT CIRCUMSTANCES. SOME IN HOSPITAL BEDS, NEARING DEATH, WHO WERE BEING RECOGNIZED WITH THEIR SPOUSES, FOR WEDDING ANNIVERSARIES AND BIRTHDAYS; AND I WITNESSED THE VERY KIND NATURES OF STAN DARLING AND FRANK MILLER, WHO MADE THESE RECIPIENTS FEEL UPLIFTED, BY EACH OF THE HONORS BESTOWED UPON THEM…..OFTEN UNDER ADVERSE CIRCUMSTANCES. BUT IT WAS WHEN THEY ENGAGED THESE RECIPIENTS AND FAMILIES IN CONVERSATION, THAT HISTORY GAINED ITS RIGHTFUL PLACE, AND I WAS THERE, LIKE A SPONGE, TO SOAK IT ALL UP. ACCOMPANYING THESE TWO GENTLEMAN AROUND MUSKOKA, IN THE LATE 1970's, AND 1980's, WAS A VERY REAL HONOR FOR ME, AND THE KIND OF LESS IN REGIONAL CANADIAN HISTORY THEY DON'T TEACH IN UNIVERSITY. I HAD A CERTIFICATE THAT INFORMED ME, THAT I HAD A DEGREE IN CANADIAN HISTORY, FROM YORK UNIVERSITY, BUT IT DIDN'T ENTITLE ME TO BE AN HISTORIAN. I HAD TO EARN THAT BY IMMERSING IN LOCAL HERITAGE, IN ALL WAYS, ALL OF THE TIME. MY EARLY ADVENTURES IN REPORTING, ALLOWED ME THIS RARE AND INTIMATE PRIVILEGE, OF SEEING FROM THE INSIDE OUT INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

MY PLEASANT WALKS THROUGH CEMETERIES

     I remember, one sunny spring afternoon, being accosted by a neighbor of the United Church Cemetery, adjacent to Annie Williams Memorial Park, in Bracebridge, demanding to know my intentions wandering through the property? Was I planning on stealing the brass letters of some tombstones? Was I thinking about toppling some of the grave markers, or spray painting graffiti on the large memorial stones? She had been watching me for about a half hour, she claimed, and "I didn't know whether to call the police or not!"  As she got closer, with a wagging finger about this not being a place for such nonsense, she all of a sudden stopped in her tracks, dropped her accusatory finger, and blurted as an apology, "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Mr. Currie…..I didn't know it was you in here." "If I'd known it was you I would have brought over some cookies," she said, blushing about her oversight. "Are you doing a history of the cemetery Mr. Currie," she asked. "You see, we get a lot of vandalism here, being so close to the park, and some of it happens in the broad daylight, when kids start running around in here. It's not right, you know, them playing games in here." I understood her concern, and congratulated her on being a good and caring neighbor of this community memorial. I answered her, that I was doing some research, making note of some of the tombstone inscriptions, to go with a particular project I was working on, at the time. She knew me from the newspaper uptown, and as a founding member of the local historical society. She went on to explain, that all the neighbors surrounding the cemetery, watched the comings and goings of visitors, to make sure their attendance on the property, was respectful……as it had been the case, even recently, that stones had been knocked over by teens after a nearby party. I saw some of the stones that hadn't been repaired yet, and a few of the beer cans, strewn near the fence on the back side. I certainly didn't mind being questioned, under the circumstances, and I enjoyed a nice visit with the neighbor lady in the meantime.

     I have visited many of the Muskoka region's cemeteries, for research purposes, and I'm always in awe of the earliest grave markers, belonging to those first stalwart settlers, who braved some of the most daunting natural obstacles in the province, to stick it out in the wilds. I've spent most of my research time, in the past forty years, trying to learn more about the pioneer period, from the late 1850's to the 1890's, and how these citizens opened up the region for the future we  enjoy today. Life was hard, and there are settlers buried in these hallowed grounds, who died as a direct result, of hardship living the frontier life. There are those who perished in the logging industry, working in the winter months to earn enough money to save their homestead farms. There are those who succumbed to the illnesses that spread amongst those who were under-nourished and exhausted by life's toil. We don't like to dwell on the fact, many of our pioneer families died as a direct result of malnutrition, and over-work. These settlers were particularly vulnerable, when hit with a bout of the influenza, or diphtheria, which made its deadly rounds in our region. There are those who succeeded and those who failed. buried here. The young and the old. The business proprietors, and the pioneer mothers and daughters. There is so much history beneath the ambling reporter, in awe of the roots of community…..the essence of today's neighborhoods, in the town's they founded with their foresight, and back breaking labour. I am always humbled in their presence, and I do find these special memorials, calming, peaceful and restorative places to visit…..especially, at times, when I am frustrated by research, or in a quest for inspiration. I find their amalgamated lives and spirits, an unfaltering source of inspiration, and it's why many other kindly neighbors, have confronted me on my regular ambles through church yards and cemeteries, across this beautiful district of Muskoka. Some of the people I visited, on those special occasions, with Stan Darling and Frank Miller, are now buried in these cemeteries, as are my companion, former politicians……who were both terrific friends during those apprentice years for the young historian…….and ever-learning reporter for the community press. Frank and Stan never treated me like a rookie. They may have instead, made me a project. They would often help me get the names of people in the photographs, even to the point of grabbing up my reporter's notebook, and pencilling them onto a blank page. I was glad to have their company.

     Thanks for visiting today. Please come again.

The People, Places and Events Of Muskoka

Winnie Schulz and Ginger (both photos by Fred Schulz)

The View from the stage at Music On The Barge, Gull Lake Park

WE MISS A LOT OF MUSKOKA ATTRIBUTES, BECAUSE WE'RE LIVING URBAN LIFESTYLES

HOW CAN WE PROTECT MUSKOKA, IF WE DON'T APPRECIATE THE STRESSES?

     THE PHOTOGRAPHS OF PEOPLE, PLACES AND EVENTS, ACCOMPANYING THIS BLOG, WERE TAKEN BY MUSKOKA PHOTOGRAPHER, FRED SCHULZ, AND WERE SELECTED FROM HIS ARCHIVES, OF IMAGES HE CONSIDERS SOME OF HIS FINEST. THE IMAGES ARE NOT CONFINED TO NATURAL SCENES, AND WON'T BE DOMINATED BY URBAN LANDSCAPES; BUT WILL INSTEAD BE MIXED TOGETHER WITH THE PORTRAITS OF MUSKOKANS THE PHOTOGRAPHER FOUND AS IDEA SUBJECTS FOR HIS STUDIES. THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE SETTLED AND PROGRESSED OUR REGION THROUGH THE CENTURIES, ARE TO BE RESPECTED AND CELEBRATED. SO INCLUDED AMONGST HIS FAVORITE LANDSCAPES, WILL BE INTERESTING PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN OF INDIVIDUALS, GROUPINGS AT EVENTS, AND AUDIENCES, SUCH AS THE ONES WHO SHOW UP REGULARLY FOR THE "MUSIC ON THE BARGE" CONCERT SERIES, ON SUNDAY NIGHTS DURING THE SUMMER MONTHS…….. AT GRAVENHURST'S GULL LAKE PARK. THERE ARE TWO OF HIS FAVORITE PHOTOGRAPHS RUNNING TODAY, IN THIS BLOG……ONE BEING OF HIS MOTHER, WINNIE SCHULZ AND CAT GINGER (WINNIE BEING FROM COOPER'S FALLS), AND THE OTHER, ONE OF MY FAVORITES, AN INSIDE-LOOKING OUT PHOTOGRAPH OF A "BARGE" SUMMER CONCERT.

  

     A GROWING NUMBER OF MUSKOKANS COULDN'T CARE LESS ABOUT THE CONSERVATION OF THE DISTRICT. WE HAVE A LARGE CHANGEOVER OF POPULATION EACH YEAR, TRANSFERRING IN AND OUT OF THE REGION FOR REASONS OF EMPLOYMENT. WHEN FOLKS DO ARRIVE HERE, IN ONE OF THE COMFORTABLE NEIGHBORHOODS, RURAL OR URBAN, IT WILL TAKE YEARS FOR THEM TO FIND OUT EVEN THE BASICS OF MUSKOKA HISTORY; AND TO FULLY APPRECIATE HOW PRECIOUS THE ENVIRONMENT IS, TO A DISTRICT THAT HAS DEPENDED ON TOURISM SINCE THE MID TO LATE 1870'S. THE PROBLEM FOR MUSKOKA, IS IN THE URBANIZING OF THE HINTERLAND. EACH YEAR THERE ARE PROFOUND CHANGES TO THE LANDSCAPE. A SIGNIFICANT PERCENTAGE OF OUR POPULATION, INCLUDING SEASONAL RESIDENCY, MISS THESE CHANGES, TO SOME DEGREE, OUT OF COMPLACENCY……AND IN MANY CASES, THE OUTRIGHT RESIGNATION THAT PROGRESS IS UNAVOIDABLE. FORESTS MUST COME DOWN, LOWLANDS MUST BE FILLED, HILLSIDES LEVELED. EVEN YOUNGSTERS HEADING TO SCHOOL EACH MORNING, SELDOM LOOK INTO THE ADJACENT WOODLANDS, OF OUR OWN NEIGHBORHOOD, TO OBSERVE THE NATURAL SCENE THAT IN MY DAY…….WAS SO POWERFULLY ALLURING, AND COMMANDING OF MY ATTENTION. EVEN WHEN THE SCHOOL BUS RETURNS THE YOUTH, BACK TO OUR "NECK OF THE WOODS," THE SAME AFTERNOON, THE MOST ACTION OUR WOODLANDS WILL EXPERIENCE, IS THE UNCEREMONIOUS TOSSING OF THE FRUITS AND VEGETABLES FROM THEIR LUNCH BAGS…….GETTING RID OF THE EVIDENCE BEFORE ARRIVING HOME. IS IT POSSIBLE THAT NATURE CAN BECOME IRRELEVANT IN AN ERA OF SUCH ACUTE AWARENESS ABOUT SUCH REALITIES OF GLOBAL WARMING AND POLLUTION? THE CONSERVATION OF RESOURCES?

     AS A KID, I WOULD HAVE SPENT CONSIDERABLE TIME, IN THESE SNOWY WOODS, OF THIS MORNING, AND MARVELED AT SUCH TRIVIAL INCIDENTS, AS COMING UPON THE TRAIL OF A PASSING DEER, OR THE TELL-TALE IMPRINTS OF A RABBIT ALONG THE UPPER RIDGE OF THE BOG. I COULD LOSE MYSELF IN THE CALMING, BEAUTIFUL SCENERY, OF THE DECORATION OF SNOW UPON THE EARLY SPRING LANDSCAPE. IT WOULD TEMPT ME GREATLY, TO STOP FOR AWHILE, TO LISTEN TO THE MYRIAD, SNAKING CREEKS THAT RUN THROUGH THE LOWLAND, TUMBLING IN TINY CRYSTALLINE FALLS, JUST BEYOND THE MOUNDS OF OLD SEASON GRASSES, MAKING RIDGES THROUGHOUT THE HOLLOW. I WOULD STAY TO WATCH THE WOODPECKER SEEKING SUSTENANCE FROM THE DECAYING PINE, AND FIND IT FASCINATING HOW THE SQUIRRELS, BY LEAPING BOUGH TO BOUGH, CREATE THE SUNLIT SNOW SHOWER AROUND ME. IT WOULD ALL REMIND ME OF THE ART WORK FROM THE SCHOOL TEXT BOOKS, WHEN I WAS ONE OF THOSE STUDENTS, CONFINED TO A CLASSROOM. THE PRINTS FROM THE WORK OF THE CANADIAN GROUP OF SEVEN ARTISTS, AND TOM THOMSON, SAVED MY SANITY IN THOSE YEARS, WHEN ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS ROAM THE WILDS, AND PADDLE A CANOE TO THE HORIZON. THOSE OLD TEXTBOOKS SAVED ME FROM IMPLODING FROM BOREDOM, AND THE HUGE CLASSROOM WINDOWS GAVE THE VOYEUR HIS ESCAPE.

THE MUSKOKA WE OFTEN MISS, IN OUR HARRIED PACE TO CONDUCT THE BUSINESS OF THE DAY

     When I began working with Muskoka photographer, Fred Schulz, to collaborate on a special blog project, to offer readers the benefit of our years of experience, hunting and gathering inspiration from our home district, I didn't wish to set down any encumbrances to our own creative spectrum. I didn't want to put either one of us back in that classroom protocol, or engage what might be considered a "harried" pace, to "get it done." The project began because we both felt, at our elder statesman time of life, that we wanted to share our respect for Muskoka, via editorial content and photographs, which we both feel are consistent with our own attachments to this part of Ontario. We didn't wish to put together a book, and it was never about a single cent of profit, to do what we have both been doing most of our lives…….living the good life in a truly amazing region. There are no fancy wrappings, framing, or special effects to dazzle readers. Fred is an exceptional photographer, who has never felt the need to "jazz-up" what is fascinating on its own. We both have an enormous respect for the representation of Muskoka without embellishments. Without bending to editors or publishers, who will dictate how our work is to be presented and made effective. This blog project, I guarantee you, is about as pure and honest to the objective, as it could be crafted……and if at the end of its run, which may take a year to complete, our satisfaction will be attained, just knowing we stuck to the basics, and followed our hearts, about the best way of showing you, what has enthralled us for most of our adult lives. We would like to think we can attract some readers, to stick with us on this journey of re-discovery, but I have made it policy here, at Birch Hollow, to never once, during its run, ever check the numbers of readers registered per day, per week, and per month. This number must not interfere with the outcome. We are both looking at this, as being a resource for the future, that we will gladly share with others who feel about Muskoka as we do. As for winning awards like the other media outlets like to boast on their front pages……we don't expect any such scrutiny. It's not about winning an award. It's about performing our own due diligence, to represent our district respectfully, winning your endorsement……and in the words of David Grayson, "we are friends; our orbits coincide." 

     This is why there are random season photographs from Mr. Schulz. I requested his spontaneity, when looking for file photographs he has archived over forty years, as a hobby and then professional photographer, with a great deal of media experience. As Fred's submissions are based on his interests of the day, my infilling of editorial copy will be based on the inspirations of the moment…..and even the weather of the day. It is a celebration of Muskoka. From the pen and camera of two chaps, who feel it is important to remind folks, about what they often miss in this fast paced existence…….and what they should observe of their surroundings, that would make their days more invigorating and exciting.

     There are a few paragraphs written by author David Grayson, that I have always relied upon, to peak my curiosity, at times when I fall into the mire of commonplace. The words help me look beyond the obvious…..and to see what often is inadvertently obscured by the hectic pace we endure, and the dullness associated with exhaustion. They read as follows:

     "I cannot well describe it, save by the analogy of an opening door somewhere within the house of my consciousness. I had been in the dark; I seemed to emerge. I had been bound down; I seemed to leap up, and with a marvelous sudden sense of freedom and joy. I stopped there in my field and looked up. And it was as if I had never looked up before. I discovered another world. It had been there before, for long and long but I had never seen nor felt it. All discoveries are made in that way; a man finds the new thing, not in nature but in himself. It was as though, concerned with plough and harness and furrow, I had never known that the world had height or color or sweet sounds, or that there was feeling in a hillside," wrote Grayson, a refugee from the urban jungle.

     "I forgot myself, or where I was. I stood a long time motionless. My dominant feeling, if I can at all express it, was of a strange new friendliness, a warmth, as though these hills, this field about me, the woods, had suddenly spoken to me and caressed me. It was though I had been accepted in membership, as though I was now recognized after long trial of being here. Across the town road which separates my farm from my nearest neighbor's, I saw a field, familiar, yet strangely new and unfamiliar, lying up to the setting sun, all red with autumn; above it the incalculable heights of the sky, blue, but not quite clear, owing to the Indian summer haze. I cannot convey the sweetness and softness of that landscape, the airiness of it, the mystery of it, as it came to me at that moment. It was as though, looking at an acquaintance long known, I should discover that I loved him. As I stood there I was conscious of the cool tang of burning leaves and brush heaps, the lazy smoke of which floated down the long valley and found me in my field; and finally I heard, as though the sounds were then made for the first time, all the vague murmurs of the country-side; a cow bell, somewhere in the distance, the creak of a wagon, the blurred evening hum of birds, insects, frogs. So much it means for a man to look up from his task. So I stood, and I looked up and down with a glow and a thrill which I cannot now look back upon without some envy and a little amusement at the very grandness and seriousness of it all. And I said aloud to myself - 'I will be as broad as the earth. I will not be limited'."

     Muskoka. There is so much we've neglected to observe and be thankful for…..in our home district. Please come back again, as we explore the Muskoka we have found, that we wish to share with you.

Muskoka As Walden, By Fred Schulz and Ted Currie

The Torrance Barrens , Both Photos By Fred Schulz

MUSKOKA AS WALDEN - A TRIBUTE TO HENRY DAVID THOREAU AND WALDEN POND - BUT I MUST BEGIN WITH WASHINGTON IRVING

     THE COLD SPRING WIND IS RATTLING FURNITURE STORED ON OUR VERANDAH. I MOVED SOME OF THE CHAIRS THE OTHER DAY, IN ANTICIPATION THE TOUGHEST PART OF THE WINTER SEASON WAS OVER. HOW I WOULD LOVE TO SIT OUT ON THAT DECK, LOOKING OUT OVER THE MODEST GROUNDS OF BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH ITS SCATTERED RASPBERRY CANES MIXED WITH HOMESTEAD LILACS, BROUGHT FROM THE OLD COTTAGE IN WINDERMERE. I'VE BEEN A MUSKOKAN LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT IT CAN SNOW IN JUNE, AND IT IS NOT UNCOMMON TO HAVE A MAJOR WEATHER EVENT IN APRIL, DEMANDING SNOWPLOWS AND SHOVELS BACK INTO ACTION. EVEN WHEN THE WEATHER IS ROUGH LIKE THIS, AND THE SKY IS DARK AND THREATENING, I HAVE NO PROBLEM IDENTIFYING THE ATTRIBUTES, OF BEING SO VERY FORTUNATE, TO LIVE IN THIS DYNAMIC EMBRACE OF MUSKOKA……REGARDLESS OF THE PREVAILING CLIMATE, REGARDLESS OF THE PREVAILING SEASON. I AM PLEASED BY ALL ITS DIMENSIONS AND IMPOSITIONS.

     I HAVE A LARGE WINDOW BESIDE MY DESK, THAT AFFORDS ME A CLEAR VIEW OUT OVER THE WETLAND, WE CALL "THE BOG," AS YOU CAN READ ABOUT, ARCHIVING BACK THROUGH THIS MULTI-YEAR BLOG. I CAN SIT HERE AT ALL TIMES OF THE DAY AND NIGHT, AND FIND CURIOUS REALITIES AND ODDITIES ABOUT THIS SMALL BUT IMPRESSIVE LOWLAND. I MIGHT WAKE UP IN THE MORNING, AND SEE A NUMBER OF DEER WALKING ALONG THE FAR RIDGE, IN THE LIGHT AND SHADOWS OF SPRING SUN BLOCKED BY VENERABLE BIRCHES WHICH HAVE BEEN THIS WAY FOR LONG AND LONG. A MOOSE MIGHT WADE INTO THE MUCK OF THE BOG, OR AN OWL COULD EASE DOWN FROM A PINE BOUGH, ONTO A JAGGED, BROKEN-OFF BIRCH STUMP, FREE OF ITS BARK, IN THE UPLAND'S THICKET OF SCRUFFY GROWTH, I CAN SEE WITHOUT BINOCULARS. A BEAR MIGHT AMBLE ALONG THE PATH, AT MID-DAY, AND OLD CROWS WILL "CAW" INTRUSIVELY FOR HOURS ON END, ABOUT SOME BROKEN SOCIAL CONVENTION OF WOODLAND LORE. SQUIRRELS LEAP THROUGH THE OVERHANGING BOUGHS, AND SOON FAT RACCOONS WILL WADDLE OUT OF THE HOLLOW, LOOKING FOR ADVENTURE AMONG THE HUMAN KIND. THE NIGHT SOUNDS IN SPRING ARE INVIGORATINGLY HEARTFELT, AS THE AIR PERMEATES THE AROMA OF WET, OPEN EARTH, AND NEW GROWTH EMERGING ACROSS THE WETLAND.

     AS A WRITER, I'VE BEEN SOOTHED BY THIS VISTA, AND NEVER EXPERIENCED A TIME, AT THIS DESK, BY THIS LARGE WINDOW, THAT I COULDN'T FIND SOMETHING TO COMPOSE…..SOMETHING TO HIGHLIGHT, OF THIS SPECIAL PLACE IN AN URBAN NEIGHBORHOOD, IN THE TOWN OF GRAVENHURST. AT TIMES WHEN I'VE SAT DOWN HERE, FEELING UNINSPIRED, AND FRUSTRATED BY DAILY CHORES AND DELAYED PROJECTS, IT ONLY TAKES A FEW MINUTES TO FEEL A SENSE OF RENEWAL DEEP WITHIN, AND A GENUINE INTEREST TO EXPRESS THESE FEELINGS, TAPPING AWAY AT THIS KEYBOARD, ANY TIME THE URGE PREVAILS. I BEGAN THIS PARTICULAR BLOG, AS A PORTAL OF ESCAPE FROM THE RIGORS OF THE WORK DAY. A SANCTUARY FROM THE STRESSES OF PROJECTS I'M FORCED TO PURSUE, FOR A WORKDAY WAGE, BUT AM GENERALLY DISINTERESTED. IT WAS MY EXCEPTIONAL PLACE TO VISIT, WHEN EVERYTHING ELSE SEEMED HEAVY AND BURDENSOME, AND INTOLERABLY REGIMENTED. ENTERING THIS MINDSET, THIS BLOG, LIKE THOREAU, AT CONCORD'S WALDEN POND, GAVE ME A CURIOUS SENSE OF ESCAPE. LIBERATION FROM THE NORMAL DAY TO DAY FARE. A CHANCE TO EXPLORE MUSKOKA, WITH A LIBERAL, ETHEREAL EXTRAVAGANCE, WITHOUT FEARING THAT I MAY HAVE, IN THE PROCESS, COLORED OUTSIDE THE LINES. "MUSKOKA AS WALDEN," HAS BEEN MY CONDUIT TO THE NATURE OF OUR REGION…..THIS DESK, THE WINDOW, AND THE COMFORTABLE CHAIR NOT FAR FROM THE WARM HEARTH, OF BIRCH HOLLOW, A STRETCHED PARALLEL TO HENRY DAVID THOREAU'S TINY CABIN AT WALDEN. 

THE SENSE OF ENCHANTMENT - I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT

     One of the authors I often turn to, in the stress-laden moments, when I feel stifled by protocols, and exhausted by the news of the day; like the scent of cleansing sage, to the clairvoyant…….., a passage or two from the pen of Washington Irving sets my imagination free. It validates how I have always felt, since childhood, about our lives outdoors, and the inspirations to be harvested…..if we can ever truly keep imagination free of the encumbrances, that dull its cutting edge. I feel it is important to offer you this often repeated section, from Irving's 1820's book, "Bracebridge Hall," as it will explain how I have studied and celebrated Muskoka since I arrived here, in the winter of 1966. A refugee from city life. Thrust down into an enchanted hinterland, that I enjoyed every day of my youth……every second of every day in adulthood. As I re-visit this blog-site, that I began several years, out of a desire to escape day to day pressures, I can't write a more profound explanation, as to my endless passion to seek out Muskoka's mysteries. In the words of Washington Irving I humbly concur:

     "I am dwelling too long, perhaps, upon a threadbare subject; yet it brings up with it a thousand delicious recollections of those happy days of childhood, when the imperfect knowledge I have since obtained, had not yet dawned upon my mind, and when a fairy tale was true history to me. I have often been so transported by the pleasure of these recollections, as almost to wish that I had been born in the days when the fictions of poetry were believed. Even now I cannot look upon those fanciful creations of ignorance and credulity, without a lurking regret that they have all passed away.

     "The experience of my early days tells me that they were sounds of exquisite delight; and I sometimes question whether the naturalist who can dissect the flowers of the field, receives half the pleasure from contemplating them, that he did who considered them the abode of elves and fairies. I feel convinced that the true interests and solid happiness of man are promoted buy the advancement of truth; yet I cannot but mourn over the pleasant errors which it has trampled down in progress. The fauns and sylphs, the household sprite, the moonlight revel, Oberon, Queen Mab, and the delicious realms of fairy land, all vanish before the light of true philosophy; but who does not sometimes turn with distaste, from the cold realities of morning, and seek to recall the sweet visions of the night."

     When I look out this same window, and feel the cool breeze on a scented summer evening, seeing the lights of fireflies, deep in the hollow of The Bog, I am reminded of Washington Irving's advisory, that enchantments have their place even in our most conservative perceptions of reality. We all benefit from the liberation of imagination, to wander, as we did as children, down these playfully haunted paths, to sense for ourselves, the true dimension of what is real, and what is fantasy. Sometimes we would come home perplexed by what we had experienced. We might return home frightened by the unknown. We thought we saw strange creatures, dancing lights, and upon hearing a footfall, ran as fast as we could, to the safety of our illuminated lane. I worry about the children of today, and how they interpret the strange wonders of the vast Muskoka hinterland. It can be said with some honesty, that I have pursued the secrets of this region, as much as a child would explore a perceived haunted woodland. Siding, as it was, that enchantment was profoundly integral to nature, as its deep roots in forest and bog; as rugged and weathered as the rock faces warmed daily by the sun. I can't take ten determined steps in these same woodlands, without feeling that rising sense of wonder, about what I might find of nature, that will fascinate me today…….and encourage an intrepid march further along the trail of discovery. This has been the writer's relationship with Muskoka. It has been my place of inspiration, as it has been my portal for escape. I can find joy in the simplest of offerings, and wax poetic about the first lilacs, and the robins that peck at the sod beneath. I can feel lost in enterprise, but in only moments, of sitting on a fallen log, in this picturesque dominion, my heavy heart escapes its mortal trappings. As a writer, Muskoka is my Walden Pond. I have never once, been void of creative adventure, when writing about the place I live and work. It is in essence, the passion for this most basic offering of reflections, now enhanced by the brilliant photographic work of long-time Muskoka photographer, Fred Schulz, of Gravenhurst……who will regale us with his historic images, captured over many decades…..that demonstrate his own lifetime passion for his home region…..and its representation in film.

     This blog is still the portal I intended it to be, when I began my entries a number of years ago. It is a safe haven, as much as a place to step-out from, on occasion, to explore and entertain adventures. I hope it will come to represent the small comfortable cabin, that Thoreau built on the shore of that lovely little Massachusetts pond……affording him a place to contemplate nature…situated on the brink of urban expansionism as it existed during his life. The photographs that will be provided by Fred Schulz, will highlight all sides of the Muskoka experience…..urban and rural, as he has enjoyed the home region, since his earliest days, growing up in the hamlet of Kilworthy, south of Gravenhurst, where his family ran the popular general store. He will include many photographs of trains then and now, as they were part of his youth….and a hobby he extended into adulthood. Side by side, he will offer magnificent vistas of places like the lowlands of the Torrance Barrens, and scenes of lakes and forests throughout the seasons of the rolling year. There will be two journeys, two adventures, two interpreters, and trustfully, they will compliment each other, in the collected works published here for the first time.

     The work you will see in the coming weeks, will reflect the values of the photographer and the writer, independently of one another…..except for our residence for now, in this Walden cabin, comparing notes about our respective relationships with Muskoka…..and the good lives we've had here. I suppose, in a way, expressing these thoughts and images now, is something we can both cross off our bucket lists…..as being things we believed, we really had to do….to remind others, about the history of this region…..and all the reasons to conserve and protect this incredibly beautiful district, long into the future.

     This blog compilation was not put together for any reason of profit, presently or in the future. It is the product of two enthused Muskokans, who want to share their passions for the home district…..in the sincere hope, others will feel the same.

     Please feel to drop by Muskoka as Walden any time. You can archive back for more context about how this blog was developed. Much more to come. This will be a daily blog for the immediate future. Thanks for your support.