Part I: The Gathering at Lake of the Woods
The air smells of sun-warmed pine and deep, cool water, carrying the resinous sweetness of the trees down toward the dock. Cedar decks, silvered by years of weather, overlook a pristine lake that catches the afternoon light like a sheet of scattered diamonds. Laughter rises easily among friends who have gathered for the weekend. Everyone’s stories stretch and overlap—half-remembered travel adventures. Beneath it all, the lake keeps time: the steady, rhythmic slap of small waves against the dock. From the edge of the dock, the loon appears in stunning detail against the sparkling blue water.
As the sun begins its slow descent, the evening sharpens into focus. Then comes the sizzle of steak meeting the hot grill. Nearby, a crisp Greek salad waits in a wide ceramic bowl—cool cucumbers, ripe tomatoes, briny olives, and salty feta crumbled by hand, dressed with olive oil, lemon, and herbs.
The last sunlight settles across the lake, catching on the edges of plates and turning the lake almost copper. Conversation grows quieter without anyone quite noticing. No one rushes to clear the table or check the time. For a little while, everything feels exactly where it should be: tasty food passed from hand to hand, familiar friends lingering over another story, and the immense quiet of the woods listening in.
It is more than a meal beside the lake. It is a warm celebration of presence—the rare luxury of being completely there, surrounded by friends who like to entertain.
Part II: The Coastline of Prince Edward Island
Something about Prince Edward Island makes you slow down. Maybe it’s the red dirt roads, the quiet harbours, or the steady rhythm of the Island. For me, this visit was about something deeper — giving myself permission to pause and appreciate the moments that often get overlooked. While my mom is in a nursing home, my husband and I made a ritual of walking the boardwalk along the Charlottetown harbour every day. We walked the same path, watched the boats move with the tide, felt the breeze coming off the water, and took in the view.
Nothing extraordinary. And yet, those walks became some of the most meaningful parts of our days. They gave us time to talk, reflect, laugh, and be together.
We’ve always enjoyed the little routines that make a day feel special — an early-morning cortado, the aroma of espresso at a café table, wandering through shops featuring local artisans, and, of course, discovering somewhere wonderful to eat. Growing up on the Island, I have my favourites, but I still love revisiting them.
A lobster roll at Sea Rocket Oyster House on Victoria Row is practically a requirement. We enjoyed dinner at Sims Corner Steakhouse, tucked into a beautiful historic brick building, and at Vicinato, where delicious Italian food, a lovely patio, and local buskers created the perfect Island atmosphere. There was also the fun of discovering the spot with the famous pink door — known for its wood-fired pizzas and Brussels sprouts salad. Merchantman, near the waterfront, delivered those Maritime favourites we always crave, including fish and chips and lobster seafood boils. And Slaymaker & Nichols Gastro House? Their Happy Hour cocktails and mushroom toast were definitely worth the stop. Then there’s Cows Ice Cream.
Because really, what’s a visit to PEI without a double scoop? Buttered Praline with pecans and toffee swirls was my choice — and I have no regrets.
But as much as I love the food, coffee, shops, and familiar Island places, this trip wasn’t really about any of those things. It was about time.
We visited my 92-year-old mom every day while we were home away from home. And that made every walk, every conversation, every meal, and every quiet moment feel a little more precious. Life has a way of reminding us that we don’t always get to choose how long a season lasts.
Part III: The Ritual of Gatherings
The third part of summer brings us back to friends—and to the joy of getting together without much of a plan. There is something wonderful about a long lunch with friends when no one is in a hurry. We sit under the shade of a patio, share plates, refill our glasses, and let the conversation wander. Before we know it, an hour has turned into three. Coffee becomes another opportunity to connect. A cocktail or a cortado on the table, familiar voices, and stories about the weeks we’ve missed somehow bring everyone back up to speed. We talk, laugh, listen, and pick up right where we left off. And then there are those long summer dinners, when the evening stretches out under patio lights, and no one seems ready to leave. As a teacher, I spent so much of the year thinking about schedules, deadlines, routines, and what comes next. Now I am a guest teacher in so many classrooms, and I look forward to reconnecting with colleagues and friends for the upcoming school year. Summer offers something different. It reminds me that some of the most meaningful moments happen when we slow down, make space for one another, and enjoy being together. Maybe that’s the real lesson of summer: the best connections rarely come with a plan—they happen in the unexpected moments we never saw coming. So here’s to leaving a little room for spontaneity. You never know where it might lead.
Uncommon Beauty in Writing 