End of cabin season always sad

The brilliant red leaves of a maple stood out on the point of an island just opposite our cabin.
A single red-leafed tree in our bay, surrounded by yellow leaf birches and light orange-coloured leaves of the ash trees, made for a breath-taking arrival at the cabin Saturday morning.
On the stillness of the blue lake water, soft brown needles from white pines floated on the surface.
The shoreline of Rainy Lake is ablaze with colour. Crimson reds, vibrant yellows, brilliant oranges, and muted browns fill the shoreline, with soft greens playing in the backdrop.
Both the red and white pines were releasing needles prior to the winter season. The ground around the cabin is covered in soft, golden brown needles.
Out fishing on Saturday, we spotted a white pine where every needle had turned a golden yellow. Marnie and I did not catch a single fish, but we both came back with sun-burned faces.
The heat of the sun and its reflection off the water was deceiving.
The squirrels, which have chattered constantly across the island, seem silent. It is as if they have disappeared or gone into hibernation.
The youngsters who were born in a hollow of a tree near the cabin have left the nest.
On Saturday we noticed a few boats making a quick trip to cabins. They probably were making their final trip to the lake and closing the cabin for another season.
I walked across the island to visit our friend, Larry Greif. The rains of the previous week have left the reindeer moss bloated and the low spots on the island trail covered in water.
I enjoyed a wonderful conversation with our summer neighbour, who is extending his Rainy Lake visit well into October.
The September rains have raised Rainy Lake’s water level to almost mid-July norms.
Each weekend from opening to just about closing, we plan the menus and attempt to bring just enough food to the cabin for that weekend. Come the middle of September, we always discover that the pantry is filled and the freezer is jammed.
It happens annually without fail. And for a few weeks, we endeavour to use up the food stocks so we don’t have to carry tubs of food back to town.
We normally close the cabin in stages. It begins with the unloading of food from the shelves and fridge.
Next, the outdoor furniture is store in stages. Then the skiffs are covered and tools we may need at home are transported back to town.
On the last trip of the year, the water is drained and the power is turned off.
That last trip is a sad time of year, knowing we will not be to the cabin for almost seven months.
The cabin season ends.

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