Many people in cities have a craving – an overwhelming appetite for open spaces, green forests, and clean flowing water. In time it becomes a raging hunger that overcomes all discretion, and they join the surging throng that pours out of the urban pavements, all bound for the same bit of paradise. The height of ambition is to secure a week or more at the Lake, when everyone else has to go home and work. I grew up this way, and shared the addiction.
But to arrive, first you’ve got to depart, which isn’t easy, and it’s a long, long way to paradise. And finally when you get there, you find even paradise has a leaky roof, a crooked dock, and wandering children.
Is it worth it? It must be – people hang onto their cottages long after everything else has changed in their life. Why else would they endure the drive?
As for me, I’m not addicted to cottages. It’s only my parents who are – and I could quit visiting that cottage anytime I wanted to… in July, when the water is so deliciously cool…
Weekend in the Summer G 154 beats ©2006 Dave Hadfield
I’m leavin’ from the city, I’m drivin’ in my car.
The kids are in the back seat, sayin, “Is it far?”
A weekend in the summer, got to get away,
Way up north there’s a lake that calls my name.
The traffic’s really heavy, I’m down to second gear.
(A city full of people saying, “Get me outta here.”)
Ahead there is a cabin, a cooler full of beer,
Way up north where the water runs so clear.
It’s a wonder, I make it this far.
I make money all week but instead
I wish I was north, with a summer ahead.
I pull up to the cabin, park under the trees.
Carry stuff inside – loaded to my knees.
Then my wife discovers, a kitchen full of bees.
I don’t mind the stings – I’m where wanna be.
I wake up in the morning; I feel the summer rain,
Here inside the bedroom — it’s leaking once again.
I guess I’ll fix it later; I take an even strain.
Where I am is where I feel no pain.
An evening in the summer, and someone lit a fire
People comin’ over — spirits getting’ higher
The kids are in the bushes, their parents near the flame
Days and nights like this are why I came.
The weekend’s nearly over, I’m working on my tan,
Fixin’ up my dock – feelin’ like a man.
Tomorrow in the city: busy to the core,
But in five days (maybe less), I’m back once more.