Four years, 64 years

Reflections in a beaver pond, Bon Echo Provincial Park (14 September 2025)

I had such lovely feedback from my last blog post—only a week ago!—thank you everyone! I felt inspired to write another! (I hope I'm not pushing my luck!)

Yesterday was the 4th anniversary of my breast cancer diagnosis. And today, Sunday, is my 64th birthday. That anniversary and my birthday are forever entwined now, and both certainly generate opportunities for reflection. As difficult as the treatments were, I am so grateful for the extra time they are giving me — time to watch Claire blossom and thrive, connect with family and friends, make new friends, listen to music, savour good food, bask in the warm sun, hear the crickets and birds singing, smell the pine forest, swim in the lake, cycle up—and coast down— a hill, stretch into new experiences of yoga, read more books, watch the cycle of the seasons, learn new things, and so much more.

Late on Friday afternoon, I decided that I wanted to wake in the forest on my birthday, and whatever work I thought I might do on the weekend could wait until Monday. So, I booked a site at Bon Echo Provincial Park, about a 90 minute drive from my house. It's one of my favourite camping sites. Libby, the trailer, makes it easy to decide to go at the last minute. I just needed to pack some clothes and food, and decide which books to take. Oh - and to clear out the stuff in the garage that had accumulated in front of the trailer.

Since I've had Libby, I've always camped close to Mazinaw Lake at Bon Echo. That's the lake that has the magnificent rock face with over 200 petroglyphs on it, that are about 1000-1200 years old. I haven't take the boat ride on the lake for many years now, but when I last took it, maybe 13 or 14 years ago, the narrator said that scientists still hadn't figured out what the Algonquin Indigenous People had used to paint drawings that would last so long.

The campground on the other side of Highway 41, Hardwood Hills, has been closed since the spring of 2022, when a derecho storm passed through and caused significant tree fall. It is open again, and that's where I decided to go for my birthday forest experience. In the past, when I'd camped there, I appreciated that the sites were well-spaced, private, and surrounded by trees.

My birthday campsite

Yesterday, when I turned into the area I'd booked, I wondered if I'd made a big mistake. Some of the campsites are completely out in the open—surrounded by meadows, with purple aster and golden rod, but no nearby trees. Fortunately, my booking was in a bit of the forest on top of the hill that hadn't been destroyed. There were very few people around. Quiet, peaceful. Exactly what I'd hoped. And I was pretty pleased with myself for manoeuvring Libby into the back of the site, for extra privacy.

When I got up to go to the bathroom through the night, the sky was FILLED with stars. A benefit of the fallen trees - a clearer view. And when I woke this morning, I opened Libby's door and just lay in bed for awhile, watching the clouds moving across the blue sky, behind the green and golden leaves, and listening to the wind gently set the leaves awhispering.

I hiked the two-hour Shield Trail, with blue jays and chick-a-dees as companions, marvelled at two frogs, admired the light filtering through the leaves, and soaked up the fragrances of the forest. It was a warm golden day, peak September, with splashes of red, yellow, and orange aglow in the sunshine. I felt refreshed, grounded, and soothed, a wonderful "re-set." Sometimes September seems bittersweet, as the leaves start to turn and fall, with thoughts of what lies ahead. But today was so rich, so perfect. I marvelled that there was no "bitter," only the sweetness of the blissful moment.

And there was also the sweetness of two ice cream cones! One each day! Yum!

Thank you for reading! I hope there is sweetness in your September, too.