Home away from home

Ann and David's place up in Ste. Lucie is the most remarkable place. A wooden structure built with logs. It took five years for the logs to settle into their rock foundation. Gold winters and hot summers temper the wood. The wood fibres shrink and expand in slow motion. The massive structure shifts in micro-movements until all the pieces merge together as one. Home.

I feel about this house like I did about Pat and Dave's place. A sanctuary that exists within nature. A place where there was an ever-changing sea landscape and seasong rolling off the reefs and pounding off the cliffside. The bright yellow chairs in the pool area, with their seats made of slung canvas, supported our backs so perfectly. The children swam, and we would read, glancing up occasionally to witness their looklook antics.

There were the sunsets on the terrace. The swimming under the stars before going to bed. All accompanied by bats flying and the serenade of tree frogs. 

At Ann's, it is less wild, but there is a sense of embracing wilderness. I can hear the sound of the wind dancing with the trees. There is birdsong in the early morning, but later on, there will be less song and more fluttering and scavaging for their young chicks. 

David makes creaks with the stairs as he comes down to let Lucie out. Then he goes up to change for his run through the woods. Once he leaves, there is nothing left but the stillness of the family sleeping and the swaying of the greens outside the open windows. There it is... a sigh from Lucie dreaming as she sleeps next to me. 

(Written during our trip to Montreal in August.)