It's the Victoria Day long weekend, the first holiday weekend of the ''summer'' (if it ever comes) and the unofficial kickoff to cottage season. And that means cottagers. In droves. I'm not gonna lie. I hate them. They're at best noisy and at worst - and more often than not - obnoxious, and they're everywhere. They drive too fast on the roads; they make wakes in the lake and bays and rivers with their stinking gas-fuelled motorboats and the even more dreadful jetskis, they trespass on private property, they set off fireworks all summer long, and throw garbage on sidewalks and roads and in the woods. They're largely rich, entitled city-dwellers, and they're fundamentally different from the people who live here year round. Peace won't return until after Labour Day. 

I spend a lot of time looking up at the sky, an ever-changing canvas of blue. Lately I've taken to photographing it. Perhaps because it's one place where there's a dearth of people...

As oxymoronic as it sounds, it keeps me grounded.

why do they have to go hand-in-hand?