Summer Bliss in Port Elgin
A summer breeze blows across the lake,
The familiar scent of the harbour,
Entrapped in this invisible force.
Blue Jay Hollow
This quaint town has been nick-named,
And what a perfect name to call it.
Here the Blue Jays are Kings of the sky,
Cardinals and Chickadees their loyal servants.
The small train's whistle blows,
As it leaves the candy store on the beach.
A child's pride and joy.
In our younger years,
At the sound of our favourite blue engine,
We would race to the window to watch,
As the train would chug on by the harbour.
The conductor still waves when we are near enough,
Though he doesn't remember who we are
Too many children have come and gone.
The two parks we frequently played in,
Are some of the few things to have seen change.
The old wooden playsets are gone,
Replaced by new, bright coloured jungle-gyms.
They're not as fun as the old ones.
We'd visit for a week in the summer,
Without mom and dad.
Each night Grandma and Grandpa
Would treat us out to ice-cream,
And take us on a drive out to Douglas Point.
By then it would be dark,
And the bright lights from across the lake,
Would reveal to us Port Elgin Harbour,
Our beacon light calling us home.
If we were lucky, or behaved very well,
Grandma would let us pick something from Stedman's.
And, when we were especially good,
We'd drive out to South Hampton or Owen Sound,
And they would treat us to lunch.
And on Labour Day Weekend,
The last weekend before school would begin.
We'd return to Port Elgin,
Take one last swim in the lake.
On Sunday night,
We'd find a spot by the harbour.
Before the water became to low for the docks,
We'd try and claim the docks,
And watch the spectacular array of fireworks,
Bright colours leaving their reflection in the water.
So many blissful memories,
Of summers long gone past.
The days when our childish fantasies,
Would come to life in our favourite forest,
Located behind the house.
Uncle Mark would walk us,
Through the forest paths.
And ever so often,
He would lead us away from the set paths,
To tell us stories of the fairies,
And their elegant fairy King and Queen.
It brought such life to that fair place,
And tickled our fantasy-filled minds.
And even now,
During my wanderings through the trees,
I let the magic take hold of me again.
I go back to a time,
When the fairies were more than just real.
For the forest itself is a fantasy,
The moment you enter it,
You leave our world of reality,
And enter one only found in myths.
Mid-way through August,
Near the end of one of the paths,
The blackberries on the trees become ripe,
Ready to be plucked from their stems.
We'd snack on them as we took breaks from our walks,
And savoured the sweet flavour in our mouths.
If you continued further off the path,
Past the entrance to the Bruce Trail;
You'd come across a peaceful looking pond.
Floating around the pond,
Was a large wooden raft.
When we were small,
We'd all ride across the pond on it.
But now we're much too large,
And can only go one at a time.
When we'd get back to Grandma and Grandpa's,
The battle of the legos would begin.
We'd each try to out-build the other,
Then hide our ships in the ceiling,
So our pieces could never be stolen,
And our ships never out-done.
Even now, every once in a while,
Grandpa discovers a stowaway,
Still hiding in it's ingenious spot,
Forgotten over the years.
But all good things must come to an end,
So new good things can occur.
But we'll never forget those original days,
Of Summer bliss in Port Elgin.