For those of us without winterized cottages, the dregs of winter are the worst time of the year. These days, the city slush-fest is starting to get to me; the grime and half-thawed snow make it hard to lift my feet, and the extra weight of winter (both figurative and literal) is starting to slow me down.
But there is hope. The days are starting to lengthen, and on those days where the temperature rises above freezing, you can smell a hint of spring in the air. At home, I’ve started spring cleaning, making piles of things that can retire from the house to the cottage, though, since our opening weekend is still three months away, the contents of the boxes labelled “cottage” still have some time to prove their worthiness for city living.
We’ve considered new barbecue accessories to buy for the coming season. My partner is looking for reasons to pull out the power tools, even though his building skills need a lot more practice on the cottage before I’ll let him do anything on the house. He’s also started researching new beers for their cottage appropriateness, because a day of work without a beer to finish it off is not a completed day of work.
The daydreams have started—the first freezing cold swim, the first small project we’ll work on, the first campfire—but a brief look out the window reminds me that these things are still a ways away.
We fully admit that perhaps it’s a bit early to think about opening up the cottage. Being on an island, access is restricted most of the winter, and our uninsulated cabin makes it hard to go up when it’s not at least moderately warm out. But us summer cottagers know that the anticipation for next year’s cottage season starts on the ride home from closing up.
