Times just flies when you’re having fun

I often think gratefully about my husband’s grandparents, spending countless Sunday afternoons in the late 1940s searching for a back way from Spokane’s South Hill to the closest portion of Coeur d’Alene Lake. When they finally found it, the road actually ran along the water’s edge, and there were very few cabins in the area. They bought a 90-foot lot on a sandy beach for $500, promptly split the lot into two, and sold half to their best friends. Two identical cabins were built side by side, and the legacy began.

Our 700-square-foot (or so) cabin was built in 1950 and boasts a knotty pine interior with split logs on the outside. No insulation present. The pipes are exposed, making winter habitation impossible. A small covered porch was attached to the front, and some boards placed precariously over two floating logs served as the first dock. Definitely not fancy, but they had their lake place at last.

Old family photos show them doing the same things as we do now, only in different clothes. Raking the beach, relaxing on floaty things, sunning on the dock, having a drink with friends – some things never change.

Somewhere along the way, a huge deck was added, some bushes were planted and the dock upgraded. There, done. An occasional new roof or exterior paint is all that has really changed after that. Everything else remains the same – the sounds, the smells, the sunrise and sunset. The same families come year after year, generation after generation; cabins change hands very infrequently.

Although there are plenty of projects that could be done, during the summer, no one feels like doing them. There are too many other pressing items of business. A morning walk is a must, straight over to one of our best friends’ decks for coffee. Of course, I start a pot at our cabin first, in case anyone drops by later. Then, by around 11, it’s time to get dressed because the pajamas I’m wearing are getting too hot in the sun.

The kids are up by now, and everyone wants pancakes to go with their cartoons. Noon. Perfect time for a dip, a rollicking game of “super rat” (involves an 8-foot-by-5-foot sinking raft, several kids and at least one dad) followed by some flint searching, and a long game of Scrabble with cold drinks.

Snacks are set out, which hopefully resemble lunch, because the kids claim foul play if they think they’ve missed one of their three daily required meals. More cold drinks, perhaps a nap or a tube ride, another dip, and then, my personal favorite part of the day, just before sunset, relaxing at the water’s edge.

The lake feels peaceful; small waves gently swish in and out. Smells of barbeques, gin and tonics and wet sand drift through the tranquil air. Laughter from faraway decks travels across the water. Toddlers, for whom the full sun was too much, play with their buckets and shovels at the water’s edge. I think of the generations of people who have enjoyed this timeless place for thousands of years before me. Ahhh. I could sit here forever.

The sun goes down in glory, and it’s time to feed the troops. Later, we’ll make a beach fire and eat s’mores, watch a movie, play a huge game of poker or take the boat out to go dancing at a local bar. Hmm. Another hard day at the lake. No wonder we never get anything done around here.