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Oktoberfest… the final day

October 16, 2008

Monday was my last day at the lake.  I rose before the sun and headed down to the rocks to see my last sunrise.  Only it was overcast so I didn’t actually get to see the sun.  I took this picture on Saturday morning.

Then I made breakfast for Peter who had asked for a “proper American breakfast” of pancakes and bacon.  Apparently fluffy pancakes and thin, crispy bacon are lost on the British. 

Then we hiked out to Rose Point which is the land you see jutting into the water in the above pictures.

We also hiked over to the harbor which played an important part of the sea battle between Benadict Arnold (before he turned traitor) and the British.  I haven’t been over here since I was in high school, there is no trail, you have to pick your way through the woods but it was worth it.

Back at the Big House I packed up my stuff and wandered the halls reliving memories I have made in the house.  I could almost hear my cousins voices as we played dress up in the nursery or see a younger me tip toeing through the house so I didn’t disturb my great aunt.  The house holds so many great memories for me and it really is my comfort blanket.  I stood in the window of Granny’s (she is actually my great-great grandmother) bedroom and looked down on the lake.  The view hasn’t changed in a hundred years and I am certain she would be glad that I appreciate it today. 

There are little things that are scattered throughout the house with her handwritten notes, confirming the fact that she wished for me – her unborn great great granddaughter – all the joy the property had brought her.

Maybe now you understand why the lake is my comfort blanket.  It wraps me in comfort and assures me that no matter what happens at home, it’s only for a moment.  What matters is what lasts.

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3 comments

  1. Ahh so gorgeous!


  2. That post made me cry. I am a big believer in moments and spaces in time. I find myself in a location of my past and “freeze” in a memory daydream.


  3. […] country girl returned to the scene of the crime. That’s right, I was back on the shores of Lake Champlain.   But this year was different. It was different because I was different.   Last year I arrived […]



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