First off, and this may be good news or bad news, my apologies either way. Today is the last day I am blogging until Sunday. I am taking a 3-day recharge break from the world of MyLot and Virily. It is a rechange chance for me that I am happy to take. I need a break!
The pictures today are from the Family reunion at Wisconsin Dells at one of the state parks near the Wisconsin River. I spent a lot of time on the water in Wisconsin, although for the vast majority of my time on the water in Wisconsin it was near or on Lake Ripley. Lake Ripley, if you are looking on a map, is about 24 miles south of Madison and about 20 miles north of Janesville, Wisconsin. My mother’s parents moved to Cambridge, which is the town nestled on one end of the Lake when my mother was little. Starting long before my memories begin I was in Lake Ripley. I also spent time in Wisconsin Dells that I do not have many memories of, my father’s parents lived there until I was 8 or 9 years old.
My memories of Lake Ripley are stronger, and I spent a lot more time there. I remember the nautical themed living room my grandfather had. I also remember the house next door. My grandfather and his father build two houses on the property by the lake. On top of the hill was where my great-grandfather lived. That was a house my grandparents rented out after my great grandfather passed away. But the basement of that house, stone, and musty was my grandfather’s magic storage area. I remember seeing all the tools, the engine parts and years of living on the lake — fishing poles and lures, things that held magic for a small child. I remember going in with grandpa.
Across the road from that basement was the garage. It was less a garage and more a second storage building by the time I was old enough to remember. The cars, later the 5th wheel were always parked in front of the garage. But cars were never in the one car garage. On the hill overlooking the garage, there were the three cabins that my grandparents rented. Those were weekly rentals or monthly rentals in the summer. The house that had been my great-grandfathers was rented yearly to a WWII veteran. He, the renter, was a nice man but kept to himself. My grandfather and I painted the cabins one summer, but the garage was another magical place — full of tools just like the old basement.
Those are memories I will not lose!