the cottage

 

My great grandparents built a little rustic cottage on Lake Shields outside of Faribault, MN in 1932.  Owners and operators of the Faribault Woolen Mill, they probably had a tiny bit of extra cash (even though times were tough then) and more importantly, the need to get out of the hot working conditions of the mill to a breezy cottage on the lake.  My grandmother spent time at this cottage with her parents and siblings.  Then each summer for many years she and my grandfather, with my dad and his siblings, made the journey from Chicago to spend a week or so at the cottage.  Later, my mother and father would make the cottage vacation a summer staple. The memories of the cottage are strong in my mind.  The swampy smell of southern MN lake, the feel of the night breeze through the big windows, the adventures to Heron Island, the feel of sand between my toes all week long. 

My dad and I returned to the cottage the summer after my freshmen year of college.  21 years ago.  After much too much time, I recently re-established a connection with my great aunt and uncle (my grandmothers baby brother) who now own the cottage.  They extended an invitation for Andy and the girls and I to come for a visit.  So last weekend off we went.  Hardly a thing had changed.  I love that.  The big heavy wooden shutters that my dad and I opened together each time we arrived are now replaced with nice sliding glass windows, but other than that, the same.  Right down to the swampy smell.

 

We did some fishing, a bunch of paddling and wildlife viewing, a bit of swimming, some ice cream eating and of course a visit to Wapacuta park- home of the giant climbing rock (at least that was the way it seemed as kids- to both me and my dad).  Our kids thought it was huge too, and loved sliding down its shiny front face, worn smooth by so many kid bottoms.

 

My kids now make 5 generations of my grandmother's family finding quiet and relaxation at the cottage.  Though I grew up far from my grandmother(s) and their families, this bit of connection to history and place feels like my roots digging in even deeper to this bit of Midwestern landscape we call home.