In the morning came a lone loon; diving for perch and bluegill, rising a hundred yards away to shake off the dawn; his haunting cry piercing the mist. In the evening, my family and I took a kayak and paddle boat to investigate what I thought could be a mink or an otter and discovered to our delight, by the slap of its tail, one of a pair of beavers criss-crossing the lake in front of the back deck.
The General store from my childhood was devoid of traps and waders but newly stocked with excellent cheeses and decent wines for an evening of classic movies on the big screen in the living room. My son fished from the dock, my daughter swam the lake, we lay out on lawn chairs and felt the breezes whispering across the water. Stay here, dear reader and you will be one of the lucky few to truly experience Barnard Lake. This town is my home; preserved from my youth in considerate respect, sparsely populated and friendly. Drive down to Woodstock for dinner and return to 'your' lakeside cottage; so comfortable, with its wooden trim, the views and attention to details so welcoming, you will most certainly be returning.