Читать книгу Alaska Highway Two-Step - Caroline Woodward - Страница 14

I wake up from a long, dreamless sleep and start coffee proceedings in my tiny perfect kitchen. Sun splashes over the peach and ivory walls and cupboards I painted in February. The new day out there looks glorious, not a cloud in the sky. My nose appreciates the spring perfume of cottonwood buds.

I remember fretting about the rhododendrons last night and feel reassured. If this weather keeps up, I’ll phone the Rosemont Painters tomorrow to give them a week’s notice. There are already flashes of colour in the wall of green over there.

The dense stand of cottonwoods and spruce immediately behind the two-metre-high rhododendrons continues for a quarter of a mile along the lake, giving this cottage the ultimate in privacy. Towering red sandstone cliffs immediately to the south are unbuildable terrain and they force the highway well back, muffling the sound of traffic. My cream-coloured cottage with chocolate-brown trim and cedar shake roof nestles between the cliffs and the trees on its own red sand beach. The floating boathouse is painted to match the cottage.

One of the moral obligations of Aunt Ginger’s will was that the property remain intact. No subdivision into a row of monster houses crammed side by side, each with twenty metres of waterfront. Fine by me. The compromise we reached before her death was that my sisters and brother, Faith, Hope and Justice, could build their own guest cabins among the trees.

This is a family project we look forward to. In fact, Faith and her husband, Thomas, and the kids are coming this July. Oh no, I’ll be away! I’ll phone them today; they’re on my list. They can just take over this cottage. That’s fine. And we’ll visit in the last half of July while I pound out the Alaska Highway articles. Oh dear. I can’t work with a bunch of people around. No, I’ve got to have it to myself for the writing. The polishing up, nips-and-tucks stage of it. Oh dear, what to do? I am counting on holing up in a motel somewhere in the Yukon and doing most of the work while it’s still fresh in my mind. I can verify my research reasonably quickly and cheaply, too. Cut down on the long-distance calls. Yes, I’ll find a nice motel beside a little river and just go at it.

I stand on the deck with my one permitted morning coffee and look at the lake, which is in its Silvery Blue Mirror state. There’s no such thing as a bad day beside this lake. Even the storms, especially the storms, are wonderful to watch from inside a cozy house. I’ll be seeing lots of new lakes in the north. I look forward to getting my kayak on as many of them as possible. But now I have to make my phone calls, write my notes, go into town. May as well buy my non-perishable supplies and get the van booked into the garage.

The hot springs article payment will certainly come in handy for new tires and some of the other necessities. I will definitely need to dip into what’s left of my savings to front the money for the rest of my transportation and supplies. No! I’m going to ask the magazine to advance me a couple of thousand dollars. Surely I’m credible enough for them to risk that much on me. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. What’s left of my savings is my life raft between assignments. It’s kibble and insulin for my half-blind, diabetic dog and sardines on crackers and café au 2 percent lait for me.