Lodi

This little cottage was once the place that I dreamed would be my own private enclave for entertaining friends. I loved it.

In reality, it was a boat house, housed a fishy smelling refrigerator, circa whenever the first electric one was invented, water skis, fishing rods, and the various inner tubes and life jackets that one acquires when living on a lake and owning boats.

At one time, it was a fishing shanty, where my father would stay when he went fishing on Seneca Lake, in Lodi, New York, U.S.A., and on the same property where he eventually built our vacation home.

My father loved nature, and taught me to appreciate the simple pleasures of being outdoors and enjoying the gifts of the earth.

This little house once sported a wood burning stove, and was where my father set about planning his place in the woods. The lake house on the hill that would be completed the year I was born, the place where my father would ultimately die.

The iron pans on the sides of the door are the same pans that my father once cooked fresh lake trout. I sort of wish I had swiped them when I took this photo, years after my family had to give the place up.

Too bad the new owner came home. I do wonder why he didn't build new steps??