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- This is a view from the porch of my grandparent’s house in Pequot Lakes,
where as a little girl, my family would take our yearly summer
vacations. Each year, as school came to an end, I would anxiously await
our trip, looking forward to the
adventures which awaited my sister and me. Although I have not been back
for quite some time, this view of the lake brings back many memories. I can still hear the
distinct echoing call of the loons that sent me running to tell my mom
what I had just heard. Many hours I spent by the shore, collecting rocks
to be polished and searching endlessly for a legendary arrowhead left by
the Indians long before me. Up this hill, is where I would race my
sister to see who could make it to the top first. Rarely would we
succeed before collapsing to the ground in exhaustion; catching our
breath by gathering wildflowers for our Grandmother to proudly display
at the kitchen table.
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- Before all the fun could start, each vacation began with the task of
re-settling into the house.
Because my grandparents did not live here year round, there were
always a few chores to be done.
I’m not sure how much help
I actually was at this age, but I always wanted so badly to lend a hand.
Tasks ranged from digging up the flowers and replanting new ones in the
garden and trapping the furry black tailed squirrels. Although the
latter I think was more for my grandpa’s enjoyment than a necessity. One
summer, my grandfather took on the daunting task of repainting the
house. The old exterior’s yellow
paint was now faded and chipped after years of harsh winters. Armed with one of my moms shirts tied
on backwards, I marched outside to help paint the small cabin adjacent
to the house. Although I couldn’t reach very high, I was doing an
excellent job of brushing the paint on evenly as my grandfather had
instructed me. However, it was only a minute before I knocked over an
entire can of gray paint, leaving a huge puddle that stained the grass for
the remainder of the summer.
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- The great thing about being at Pequot as a young child, was that boredom
didn’t exist. There was always someway to entertain ourselves. It was
only a short walk into town where my sister and I occasionally liked to
pick up our favorite sprinkled donuts. Along the way we stopped to stare in awe at
a few homes which looked so exactly like gingerbread dollhouses that we
almost dared to take a bite out of them. Back at home the expansive
front lawn was excellent for riding bikes, hitting tennis balls, and
having hoola-hoop contests. Between two trees hung a hammock in which to
relax and catch up on summer reading. An outside stove was perfect for
roasting marshmallows and keeping us warm during the breezy Minnesota nights.
Nights that were perfect for catching strange little bugs that my sister
and I never encountered back in Houston- Fireflies!!
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- Minnesota is where my extreme love for the water began. Known for its many lakes, you can’t
drive far without encountering some body of water. Pequot Lake is a much
smaller, sleepier lake perfect for a relaxing morning or evening cruise
and fishing for perch off the dock. For some fun, my family liked to
venture a short ways to the larger Pelican and Whitefish Lakes. Here
there was space to enjoy tubing and waterskiing. I also had room to
learn how to drive a boat without worry of running into a sandbar or
another person. Many of the resorts offered a place to dock your boat
and eat lunch while renting wave-runners for the afternoon.
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- Rain or shine, a tradition for our family was to attend the annual
Antique Boat Show and Parade at Moonlite Bay. Although I thought the old
boats were certainly pretty to look at, what I looked forward to the
most was the bratwurst and sauerkraut lunch which always awaited us
afterwards.
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- Bemidji, MN is a small town about an hour and half away from Pequot
Lakes. Here is where my grandfather grew up as young boy. Bemidji is
home to the legendary Paul Bunyan, the mythical Lumber Jack, whose tall
tales explain the formation of many of the northern states’ landscapes.
As a young girl, I stood in awe at the the hooves of Babe the Blue Ox as
I barely reached her knees. My favorite memory from this day is the
amusement park rides that I tortured my poor grandfather with by making
him ride beside me. As the three of us rode the spinning teacups, I
couldn’t have squeezed my eyes shut any tighter or squealed any louder.
As soon as it was over, I was ready to ride again; however, I had to do
it alone because my grandfather and sister were both sick to their
stomachs.
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- Growing up in a large city, there weren’t many opportunities to run into
wildlife. In Minnesota, with all the woods there are plenty of animals
and places which serve to protect them. The deer at this park were so
calm around humans that they would nibble little bits of corn straight
from your hand. I remember how much the deer made me giggle as they
tickled my palm. Another adventure that my family never turned down was
a western trail ride. Each year, we visited the same Red Barn and
saddled up horses for a day of exploring through the forest. The birch
trees, with their white bark gave
the woods a mystical feeling,. I liked to pretend that, in the middle of
summer, I was walking through a magical snowy kingdom with tall columns
made of ice.
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Notes
