We took to the woods

This past weekend my friend and I ran away from our families for a weekend of rest and relaxation at my cottage. We've both been feeling pretty run down by all the cooking, cleaning, arguing, working full-time and lack of sleep in our lives lately and booked this weekend months ago before the ice was even off the lake.
My cottage is quite remote and requires a drive to a tiny place called Ardbeg, Ontario which according to my friend's husband is the greatest place on earth. It's claim to fame is that it's a ghost town (at least until 2 more people move in then it will be whatever is smaller than a hamlet). It also has a restaurant/store/gas pump/take-out window/bar that makes some pretty great meals.
After a 4 mile hike in to where we pick up the boat complete with an almost-run-in with a bear we arrived at the cottage just as the sun dipped below the horizon and the mosquitos went from populous to blood-thirsty swarms. Why do I do this again??
The next morning after bacon, garlic toast, coffee and tea and some strawberries we sat out on the dock where we pretty much stayed all day and did absolutely nothing except talk and read and knit (that would be me only) and savoured the lack of our families. We love our children and husbands, don't misunderstand me but sometimes everyone needs a break to recharge. To look at things with a little more perspective and to gripe and complain until we're done and can say nice things again about the people we love.

I managed to finish knitting my second bigger mouse mitten. I even read some without feeling the need to jump up and "get something done". It was hard. The book I've been working on is called We Took to the Woods by Louise Dickinson Rich. It was written in 1942 and is Louise's accounts of life living in the bush with her husband and small son. I don't know where this book came from. A used book store maybe? Yard sale? Left by one of my brother's cottage guests when he/she was done reading it? The mystery is part of the charm I think.

(snackage, complete with Baileys and milk)

We cooked dinner to the sound of Grease, Bob Marley and Fleetwood Mac on the record player. There is something about records that is better than CDs and MP3 files.
I built this great one-match fire and of course there were s'mores.

If I could bottle the peace and quiet and rejuvenation of this past weekend I would sell it and become a millionaire.

Tell me, where do you go to find yourself again?