Scugog

Hanging the sheer curtains. Busy with measuring, drilling, screwing the hooks, we have no time to make lunch. Tim Horton's will have to do.
After meal, on impulse, Maggie says "let's go for a ride" and we are off through the deep green of farmlands to the shimmering blue of the Scugog lake. It's an almost perfect day: drinks at a pub at the beach with live jazz, and return on country roads by grazing horses and cows, through corn and wheat fields back home where the curtain waits unhanged.