Closing the Summer Cottage

I’ve known since last May that this week would come. It comes every year. And, strangely enough, I seem to be OK with it so far. I think that last warm, sunny trip up to Fairbanks did a lot to settle my mood.

Anyone who has a summer place (or a winter place, come to think of it, depending on where you live), will understand the wrenching “end of season” let-down that comes with the final emptying out, cleaning and closing up for the year.

Whether you have a cabin on a lake, a desert oasis or, like me, a fiberglass summer cottage on wheels; if it’s a seasonal getaway, the season eventually ends.

I will add a slight caveat; although this summer has flown by at breakneck speed, and I’ve come to terms with storing Roada away again for this coming winter, I haven’t totally given up on my “Bucket List” goal of traveling down through Canada to the lower 48 to visit family. I’m just refocusing that goal on 2023.

The thought has also crossed my mind (although probably prohibitively expensive) of flying down in October or November and renting a van-conversion or small RV for a month. Would that be fun, or what? I’m betting I could make it from WI to TX to OR in that amount of time. 😉 I really am doing much better!

Admittedly, my spring and early summer travels this year were accomplished in spite of my new and still healing knee, and it was a little dicey, especially in May.

Part of my depression (at times) over the summer was due to my fighting against denial that I wasn’t and likely wouldn’t be healthy or stable enough to tackle a cross-country trip this fall. I knew I wasn’t ready, but I sure didn’t want to admit it.

After waiting through an entire pandemic, and then having to put my plans on hold yet again to get much-needed knee surgery, I was just plain frustrated. I could have done the trip a few years ago, easy-peasy, and probably have managed some light hiking along the way. But dang, I’m not getting any younger.

I’ve managed, with a lot of effort, to regain a lot (maybe not all just yet, but a lot) of my pre-surgery stability and confidence, much of it just over the past month, which has given my spirits a boost. I’m no longer constantly watching my feet, making sure to carefully walk heel-toe, heel-toe, while worrying about stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. I’m FEELING so much more normal.

So, yes … I’m currently in the tedious process of boxing up food, clothing, bedding, toiletries, etc. and carting everything back into the house for the winter. My spinning wheel is set up in its corner of the bedroom. Ronni’s dog-food dish is in the mud room next to Baxter’s.

I have an appointment in mid-September to have Roada winterized. Of course, being winterized doesn’t preclude the possibility of an impulsive late September outing if we end up with a little “Indian Summer” weather … it just means hauling my own water.

My summer cottage is well on its way to being lovingly closed up, window shades drawn and doors locked.

I’ll soon be switching gears and pulling out my fleece processing tools. Hey, it’s not like I won’t stay busy.

Come to think about it, this will be the first “normal”, stress-free winter for me since 2019, when I was still instructing nose work classes.

The world pretty much went into isolation early in 2020. I remember ending my January/February Nose Work classes with an abrupt switch to online-learning. The winter of 2020/2021 wasn’t much better. Then, of course, last winter was my knee surgery. Nothing stress-free about that.

No wonder I haven’t been looking forward to winter.

This fall, things will be different. I intend to organize my little fiber studio (OK, yes, a corner of the bedroom), enjoy the smell of freshly washed fleece and yarn drying by the wood stove, get creative with blending fibers or creating new, colorful batts … and spin, spin, spin.

It’s September; Summer is over. Let the next season begin. I double-dog dare you.