Another term for it is, "a Lake Fletcher day." In meteorological terms it is characterized by slightly cool, clear summer weather with no humidity, an azure sky, and small, puffy clouds. But wherever we are, whether or not we are together, we can use the phrase to communicate a special feeling we rarely experience anywhere else.
Another unforgetable term came from the neighbour's mother who used to describe the colour of the lake on a cloudy day as pewter.
Green always seemed sufficient for describing foliage until one early spring day several years ago when I walked to the foot of a nearby cliff and found the rocks and fallen hemlock trunks carpeted with mosses, ferns and lichens. With that experience, the term verdant entered vividly into my regular vocabulary.
Every colour, in fact everything visual, registers more clearly at our cottage on the lake, from the pink lady's slipper orchid, to the splendid orange of the sunsets, to the deep purple of a falling night sky.
The other senses seem heightened, too. The call of the loon. The taste of wild blueberries. The gentle scuff of the worn cedar dock under our bare feet.
But scent takes a special vacation, perhaps because the part of our brains that recognizes smells is closely linked to the part that stores long-term memory. Ironically I`ve always associated the smell of gasoline with Lake Fletcher, apparently from a childhood experience in a neighbour`s motorboat. It is a pleasant smell to me (whether or not we like a mild aroma of gasoline or skunk is a genetic trait), so my brain has given it a pleasant visual association.
There are other smells more benevolent, like the unique, fresh scent of the water, a fragrance my mother and I identify with chlorophyll.
But nothing can match the pleasure of opening the car door after a long drive on the highway and inhaling that piercing, living, unforgettable fragrance of conifers. My young daughters already notice and treasure that smell. To many cottagers it is white or red pine, to others it`s cedar, but to us it`s the aroma of balsam fir.
Early August has always been my favourite time of year because the cottage is at its best. The populations of mosquitoes and blackflies have usually waned (although this summer has been unusually wet, so they are still present), the lake is clear, and the weather fresh and bright.
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