If I had rented a cabin by the side of a lake (and indeed, I used to live in one in Michigan - photos attached) I could have holed up there for a year and written away in total seclusion. The thing about living here is that if you tried to live like a hermit, people would notice.Offerings regularly appear on my doormat: the codebreakers leave newspapers (this is when they don’t want to disturb me, 'being a writer and all'); the landlady leaves plants (I almost stood on the last batch). And if I don’t seek people out, they all drop in happily unannounced - neighbours with a tape of an Armenian mass they thought I might like to hear, landlady with freshly baked cake or new fruits to try.
While the lake I used to live at had deer and waterlillies and racoons and squirrels (who ate all my strawberries), this place strikes a balance between providing the space I need to write, and the company to avoid going bat-crazy!So very lucky :)
2 comments:
Golden Hair, It seems like only yesterday, slamming beer after beer, catching Bluegill, slamming more beer. The good ole days. I'll send you a box of snow if you miss it.
That's right - Bluegill! I couldn't remember the name. Man we caught so many of them; they were gorgeous all fried up. In late summer they hollowed out circles on the floor of the lake and laid eggs, then swam around the circumferences. Tasty fishhies!
Yep, that was a good place to hang out :)
Thanks for the offer of snow; I'll bear that in mind as Christmas gets closer!
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