Little Cottage By The Lake
What a crisp, colorful autumn afternoon.
Crimson tipped maples paint the rural landscape as we make our
way to my aunt's shady lakeside cottage. Overhead, a flock of geese
fly in "V" formation, seemingly pointing us to the Western
Pennsylvania border, past miles of roadside pumpkin stands and
endless fields of late season sweet corn.
Finally, my husband turns down the familiar gravel road. I spot
the lake, glistening in the warm October sun.
"We're here!" I rustle my girls from the back seat. "Hurry and
say hello to everyone."
The small white cottage reminds me of a doll house -- the good
cozy kind, where friends and family happily gather, spilling out into
the yard when the quarters get a bit tight. I smile as I walk past
the well manicured lawn, bedecked for fall with orange and yellow
mums peeking from cast iron buckets.
As always, dried cornstalks climb the back porch rails. I spy a
row of perfectly orange pumpkins, gifts from my uncle's garden. I
wonder if my girls will remember to take one home at day's end. For
years, my uncle has sent home a pumpkin with each child, just in time
for Halloween.
Hopping out of the car, the girls crunch through the leaves,
hoping to sample appetizers on the back porch table. In an instant,
their cheeks are stuffed with crab dip, Amish Swiss cheese, and trail
bologna.
Family seems to be everywhere. Cousins, aunts, and uncles
trickle out from the cottage, sharing hugs and gossip in the wooded
yard. Gathered in groups, my chatty Scotch Irish clan prepares for
our autumn tradition -- an outdoor clambake, held annually on the
first Sunday in October.
Husks fly off golden ears of sweet corn as we all pitch in,
removing silky threads from more than forty cobs. Great aunts,
unaware that they could be sitting down, scurry about setting tables,
slicing juicy red tomatoes, and taking surreptitious sips of homemade
berry wine. The men hover as they always do, around the fire pit.
I chuckle at this primitive scene -- men tending the fire and
women preparing the vegetables. Why is this always the case?
Salty steam wafts upward from the coals as the tempting smells
of clams and chicken tease my taste buds. What could be better than
this? Somehow, I can't imagine being anywhere else on this idyllic
autumn afternoon. Sitting around card tables in the yard, we manage
to quiet down for a prayer of thanksgiving.
Then, at long last, it is time to dig in. Tearing open the mesh
bag of steamers, I can hardly wait to swirl each clam in drawn
butter. What a gloriously gritty delicacy. Heaven seems near as a
lobster tail is placed upon my plate, followed by sweet potatoes and
a cup of steaming clam broth.
My daughters, content with an ear of sweet corn each, amazingly
don't seem to care that much for seafood.
"I can help you out there." my husband teases, reaching for
their leftover lobster. We laugh with my cousins as we swap family
news and gorge on a final, overindulgent treat -- homemade cheesecake
and raspberry pie.
As the sun sets, we pour second cups of coffee, warm mugs that
prolong our time together, if only for a few precious minutes.
"Don't forget to take a pumpkin home with you," my aunt reminds
us. "Did you get a candle off the mantel?"
Our girls pick their future jack-o-lanterns as I select my party
favor -- a homemade cranberry scented votive. In the year ahead, the
candle will take me back to this place, filling my house with the
light and warmth of family.
"Thanks again for the clams, the pumpkin, the candle!"
It is the following morning and I am struggling to email my
aunt. How can I show my appreciation for it all -- the glorious
weather, the delectable food?
Finding next year's calendar, I flip ahead to October, making
sure to highlight the first Sunday in bright orange marker. Perhaps
the best sort of thank you involves simply being present for
cherished traditions.
Next year, and hopefully for many years to come, I will be
there, feasting with family at the little cottage by the lake.
~ Stefanie Wass ~
<swass @ adelphia.net>
Stefanie writes from her home in Hudson, Ohio. A member of the
International Women's Writing Guild, Stefanie's essays have been
published in The Christian Science Monitor, The Akron Beacon Journal,
Chicken Soup For The Beach Lover's Soul, and Chicken Soup For The New
Mom's Soul. Additionally, her stories have appeared in newspapers
nationwide as part of Chicken Soup's syndicated column. Look for two
of Stefanie's stories in the upcoming anthology Chicken Soup: Love
Stories, due to be published in February 2008.
[ By: Stefanie Wass, Copyright © 2007 (swass @ adelphia.net) -- {used with permission} ]
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