The Little Shack

There was another big rain last night which you could hear pounding on the roof. It reminded me of staying in the little shack at camp. There is a whole history to the shack that pre-dates me and I encourage others to share (if they dare), but I thought I would start with some of my memories.
When I was little, Rosie and Jim were the main occupants of the shack (at least when we came to visit.) It was exciting to be asked to come inside. The memories are fuzzy but I think there was a big metal frame bed in the middle and there seemed to be stuff everywhere (which has nothing to do with the occupants).
By the time we were old enough to start staying in the shack, it had been set up for multiple occupants – a bunk bed and a single. There was nothing fancy about it – wood floor, wood panelling walls and a peaked roof. In all these years, the screen door and the main door have not changed.

Staying in the shack was a rite of passage. It made you feel much more grown up. We were in our own little world over there. There was always stuff everywhere probably because there was no closet and just a small dresser and we were three girls who changed outfits multiple times a day.

Staying in the shack was much closer to camping then being in the main house. This had its pros and cons. Having to run to the biffy on a rainy night was not fun; sometimes you just held it in. Running to the biffy in the dark also meant risking an encounter with a skunk or the bear! There also seemed to be more mosquitoes in the shack then the main house – that screen door was not completed sealed. I hated the annoying buzz of the pesky mosquitoes in my ear and was obsessed with killing them all before turning out the light (we always tried to clean up the smudges on the ceiling).

But, the pros were big. You could hear every boat pass by; you could hear the creatures in the woods (well at least in your mind!) and you could hear the rain on the roof. There was nothing like the sound of rain on the roof in the shack. Not the big storms – that is a different story which I am sure Eliza will elaborate on. But when it was a gentle steady rain, the sound on the roof was melodic and soothing and put you right to sleep. It made the shack magical.

I arrived one summer to find the little shack all done up (I don’t think I would call it renovated). New panelling on the walls, carpet on the floor and a tiled ceiling. Moe was all about improvements at camp which you cannot fault him for. But with the tiled ceiling you could not hear the rain on the roof anymore. I still loved staying in there I did miss the sound of the rain on the roof and a small bit of the magic was lost.