We’re going to “open up” the lake place this weekend, and I can hardly wait—Trevor and I haven’t been there since October and I have really missed it. I also miss my aunts and uncles, whom we typically don’t see much of in the winter–one set of them has a summer place just up the hill from my parents’ cabin, one set lives near Alexandra, and another set lives just outside of Ashby.
My parents (whose cabin it is) have already been down to the lake a couple of times this spring—they check in occasionally over the winter as well. So, technically, it’s really “open” already—just quite a few things that need to be done to get it ready for the summer. So my sisters and brother and our families try to get down there on Memorial Weekend to help with all the chores.
There’s lots of stuff that needs to be done—putting in the dock and the boatlift, launching the boat, cleaning the cabin, potting up all mom’s flowers, and, this time (it doesn’t happen every year, obviously), re-shingling our aunt and uncle’s cabin up the hill. Don’t get me wrong, I will not be shingling. I will not, most likely, be helping haul the dock into the water. My chosen chore in the past has been to help with the cleaning of the cabin, until the last couple of years, when I’ve started potting up the plants. (You can imagine, I’m sure, that I find that task fairly pleasant.)
As I mentioned, this is my parents’ lake place, and for the past few years my siblings and I have given mom the geraniums for her lake pots for Mother’s Day, so I also pot them up for her. Mom also has six big rectangular planters, and the flowers for those she mostly gets on our yearly pilgrimage to Sheldon, which we took last Friday. A couple of years ago I started potting those up for her, too, while I was at it. So I usually end up getting out of most of the cleaning because it takes a while to pot up all those flowers. And I’m definitely not complaining about that! I’d rather fool around (er, I mean, work diligently) with flowers in the pouring rain than clean house. And last year my dad even set up some saw horses in the garage to put the pots on so I’d be out of the rain. (Let’s face it, Memorial Day weekend in Minnesota is rainy and cold more often than not!)
These are the flats of flowers I bought last weekend—my mom’s geraniums are way over on the right. She likes the red and white ones together, and I usually add some royal blue lobelia, too—I just love those bright blue flowers.
So, I’ve got no complaints. While my sister methodically vacuums the whole house, I’ll be right where I want to be, digging in the dirt.