Owl's Head, Quebec

Owl's Head on the west side of Lake Memphremagog in Quebec, Canada has been the inspiration for many artists.  Here are two watercolors done by my uncle Robert Montgomery. You will see my aunt Peggy in the foreground of the lower painting. These were on the wall of my cousin Ann's house. Worth a trip to Ogden, Canada (AKA Beebe or Cedarville) to see them and Ann.

the lake

In August, Ruthie and I did the cousin tour. We saw Martha Gordon in Barton, Vermont, Brenda Lamb Makarov and family in Derby, Vermont and Ann and Tom Montgomery in Ogden, Quebec. Yes, the Hemlocks and Winter Palace are in Ogden, Quebec. 

I have always liked seeing my cousins and feel a deep connection because of the time we spent together as kids at "The Hemlocks"- a shared summer place in Canada.  But lately I value them as holders of my own family history.  I search their faces to find traces of their younger selves and features that are shared across generations. I spent the first ten summers of my life with Tom, Ann and Martha who were six, eight and ten when I arrived on the scene. Tom was close friends with my bother John and they were just a blur -always on the run and up to something. Ann rocked me in the hammock and "payed attention" I was told by my mother. 

Ten summers, two families joined by the link of mothers who were sisters. This summer we sat on the veranda of the lake house that we once shared and talked about "the ancestors." Tom and Ann know a lot about our shared great grandparents (Hattie and Gardner Stevens), our grandmother (Ruth Stevens Lamb Dobson) and even about my parents who were like parents to them when we all shared the house. My people are their people in a way I had not appreciated as fully as I do now.  

"When did our mothers buy this place?" I wondered. Being the youngest, I always assumed that everything happened before I was born. 

"Their first summer here was 1953," answered Tom after doing some mental calculations. 

The year I was born. 

My first summer was everyone's first summer at this sacred family place. 

"See, Barb, you didn't miss a thing." said Tom.

In fact, maybe I was the inspiration for the whole thing. With the growing families, they needed a place of their own.

(Our house in Summit, New Jersey-160 Oak Ridge Avenue bought the same year.)

On our last night there, Ruthie and I were alone in the cottage. There was a powerful thunder and lightning storm that at first was lovely to watch over the lake but then came to us. Wind slammed the doors and rain blew in from all directions. In the morning we discovered that a few major trees had blown down across the path. 

"The ancestors visited us last night!" said Ruth.

We definitely stirred things up.

September on Isle au Haut

My friend Nancy invited a group of woman friends out to the island in Penobscot Bay, Maine, where we spent summers as a family years ago.  I was curious to see what it would be like on Isle au Haut in mid September having always gone there as soon as school was out in mid June. We were always there for the summer solstice, the longest day of the year and this visit was pretty close to the fall equinox, the time of year when day and night are equal length.

It was wonderful to be in this familiar place but strange to be there without my family!

We took some wonderful, familiar walks, enjoyed the almost full moon and the extreme low and high tides caused by the full moon.  Night was like day, we walked down to the pier without flashlights marveling at the moon shadows.

Rudi and Wilson were great companions on walks, getting muddy whenever possible and swimming to clean off whenever instructed. I envied them their swim in Long Pond. I wanted to jump off the dock, too, but at this time of year it was just too cold.

Allenspark, Colorado

From a Country Overlooked by Tom Hennen There are no creatures you cannot love. A frog calling at God From the moon-filled ditch As you stand on the country road in the June night. The sound is enough to make the stars weep With happiness. In the morning the landscape green Is lifted off the ground by the scent of grass. The day is carried across its hours Without any effort by the shining insects That are living their secret lives. The space between the prairie horizons Makes us ache with its beauty. Cottonwood leaves click in an ancient tongue To the farthest cold dark in the universe. The cottonwood also talks to you Of breeze and speckled sunlight. You are at home in these great empty places along with red-wing blackbirds and sloughs. You are comfortable in this spot so full of grace and being that it sparkles like jewels spilled on water. -------------------- My thoughts go out to Boulder County, Colorado today where the flooding is causing so much damage to the landscape itself (everything covered in mud) and to the people living there, particularly in the mountains where roads have been washed out and communities isolated. We stopped for  coffee at a lovely cafe in Lyons last summer, now the subject of terrible flooding, unrecognizable. I think of the cafe owner, the kids playing in the sandbox outside and the spectacular drive we took from Lyons into the mountain of Allenspark.  A river flowed in the ravine below as we climbed. Above is a photo from the porch of the cabin we rented. When I read today's poem (above) on the Writer's Almanac, I thought of all who are effected but extreme weather; animals, people, insects, landscape. Cottonwood leaves click in an ancient tongue. Not to mention the hummingbirds that were out in force!

Owl's Head

Lake Memphremagog