A moving experience at this time in life

The autumn leaves shine forth in all their glorious colours. Across the lake their reflection in the still water multiplies the beauty. We are left spellbound by this blazing forth of nature as it bids farewell to summer.

Having expended its creative energy throughout the summer, it now sinks into the quiet of a winter rest. I note that the maple leaves have an orange tinge this year. I should ask Cindy Day why they are not their usual brilliant red?

The falling leaves mark a major transition in the round of the seasons. The chill air warns us of the coming cold. Ere long the warm breezes that filled the sails of the graceful boats will invite the skaters on to its glistening surface. And so the seasons change.

Life, too, has its changing seasons. Emily and I are now experiencing one.

For 24 years we have enjoyed the rich fullness of life by the lake. Now the time has come to move on. The lake, like any home, comes with its care and responsibilities, and the years take their toll. To make the transition within ourselves as well as the physical reality means grieving what we are leaving that we may open ourselves to whatever the future brings.

We truly grieve leaving the lake. Every morning we have looked out at the ever-changing face of the water. Sometimes a mist hangs softly over the scene. In the winter the patterns of wind and snow sweep the lake with their own beauty. Many an evening we have watched the glowing sky of the sunset.

Day by day, week by week, and year by year we have gloried in the wonder that envelopes us. There is something about water and trees that communes with something deep within us. The sense of oneness with the living world around us brings peace to the soul.

Then there is the road. It weaves together an amazing community. Many are here year-round. Others come for the summer. It is truly our road.

We pay for its upkeep and all that it entails. Hats off to those who collect the money, spread the gravel, and see that it is well looked after. A special thanks to the one who faithfully plows the snow in winter, often before the highway is cleared.

Leaving the lake community is an upheaval. We may not see one another all that much but we have shared our lives and been there for one another through good times and bad. As we have grown older they have made it possible for us to stay here until now. We will not forget their response to Jonathan’s death, or the White Juan party.

And the wider community of Brookfield and beyond has nourished our lives with their friendship and help. We have enjoyed the church, the school, the rink – especially the Seniors’ Room where our fiddle group meets weekly. Grandchildren and Fiddle Group will continue to bind us to the community. Heidi’s and the bakery will no doubt continue to be on our list. We will not be far away, but there will be a separation.

Our home has been, for us, a spiritual place of comfort and creativity. Emily and I often sit in our opposite corners, she com- posing music and me writing. Our large vaulted ceiling living room has seen family gatherings and friends galore. Grandchildren have enlivened our hearts. Groups large and small have gathered here. People have come to share their stories to a listening ear. The spirit of the place speaks to each one.

A new stage of life opens before us. We have our own lovely apartment to carry on the usual activities of our lives. We will, however, live in a community that gathers each day to share a meal and engage in a whole variety of activities. Life tends to be what you make it. Life has been good at the lake and life will be good in our new abode.

Even in the throes of moving we give ceaseless thanks for all that life has brought us, and look forward to the new challenges and adventures that lie before us.