"It sounds like a World War II movie out here," said Charlie, pausing from another intense spree of shoveling dirt into our newly constructed garden beds.

He was talking about the constant whirring coming from the waterfront where the propeller-powered floatplanes were taking off and returning from shuttling passengers to the remote, fly-in camps for opening weekend of walleye season.

People are serious about their fishing here, and tourists come from all over to experience the plentiful waters. Our rods remained in the garage for the weekend though, as we focused on weeding, de-rocking, and constructing our garden beds for the yard.

We completed a 9' X 18' raised bed in the backyard, a flower bed for peonies in the front, and one of two 9' X 9' raised beds also in the front. The hardest part has been filling the beds with a mixture of nutritious black dirt and the sandy variety that is native to the area. It's backbreaking work shoveling wheelbarrows full of dirt and attempting to dump them in the bed without accidentally toppling to the side. My body is still aching.

Slowly, but surely, it is all coming together.

This long weekend was filled with a lot of excitement. We finally picked up my new car--a Subaru Forester--and even though it has only been a couple days, I already feel so much less confined in this small, isolated town we now call home. Though I still plan to walk to work most days, it is no longer a necessity, just an option.

Sunday and Monday it snowed. We knew it was coming, but it still was shocking. I spent Sunday indoors, making homemade biscuits with fresh wild chives our neighbour brought over, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, gravy, and an old-fashioned apple crumble with ice cream for dessert. Comfort food was much needed.

Eventually I emerged from the house, unable to take what felt like a winter day during the middle of May. I pulled on my boots, and Daisy and I went out to explore. We drove down a dirt road we'd never been on before, pulling off to the side when I spotted a creek running through the woods.

We crunched through the snow and fallen branches, following the creek deeper into the woods until I managed to find myself with one leg in water up to my knee. One of those "booters" our outdoor columnist at the newspaper always talks about.

Snow in May and a boot full of water--another round of initiation to life in Northwestern Ontario.