Our bluebird family had flown the coop for warmer climes and the Canada Geese were flying circular training runs in the farm field next to our cottage. Honking in their traditional V-formation, and weaving expertly through a set of hydro lines, they prepared for the journey south.

First frost shimmered on fall colours in Minden Hills, lighting up the leaves of the baby pin oak tree next to our garden.

Several tons of stone and a special order of granite that I had obtained from Brent Coltman and his father Wayne had been formed into new dry-stone terraces surrounding the little cabin in the forest.

The cabin, originally built by my father in law, Claus, and later moved to our place by truck and crane, now had some breathing room in front and back. It would stay higher and drier in the long winter, and it sported a new extended front porch area for future occupants.

For my stone work this year, I had channeled learnings from master stone waller John Shaw Rimmington and my classmates at Haliburton School of the Arts.  Working with sometimes gnarly and ancient stone once rolled by glaciers, I had come to appreciate its beauty and history. And yes, as I got into a rhythm, putting the pieces of the dry stone puzzle together, I occasionally dreamt of stone.

The morning frost sent a mist off the lake and up the hill.

Around the cabin site, new perennial hosta plantings blended with a grove of smooth-barked beech. Annual impatiens flashed their final colours of white and pink. Sturdy oak trees continued to rain down their motherlode of acorns for local critters.

By the lake, our stone terrace gardening efforts had yielded some new perennial plants that were now established and should survive the winter. Nadine’s gladiolas and hydrangeas continued to produce beautiful blooms for table arrangements. Annual orange nasturtiums cascaded and collapsed over the stone, touched by frost. The fig trees I had put out in pots for an Italian garden touch would need to be brought inside soon to hibernate during the long Canadian winter.

We were missing our two daughters Ali and Colleen, who were living and working far from home — in Scotland and the U.S..  For this Canadian Thanksgiving, we were joined in Minden by four young adults — two of our nieces, Rachel and Katie, and two family friends, Mehtab and Alva — and Nadine’s mom Ann. They checked out the log cabin in its new stone nest in the forest.

On tap that weekend were some board games, a tour of local artists, and some homework for the youth movement — they were studying engineering, political science, commerce and social work respectively. The highlight was a splendid turkey dinner prepared by Nadine and Ann.

Next to a roaring fire outside, we roasted marshmallows, then coaxed embers around a big beech stump that was slow to burn. Night fell and stars came out across Minden Lake. As the air chilled, we fed the fire and nudged our chairs closer to its warmth.