Sometimes a home is not your principle residence but simply a place where you feel comfortable. My father wrote about his beloved Driftwood, a cabin built by his Aunt Frances Prichard in 1913.
"When my mother died in May 1926, my sister Catherine and I went to live with Aunt Frances. For the next four years we spent the entire summer at Driftwood. With no electricity or telephones we lived like the pioneers. I was in charge of supplying logs for the fireplace and wood for the stove. Every day meant a trip to the ice-house for a block of ice to keep our food from spoiling, and a visit to the spring for our drinking water. Catherine was in charge of the lamps--cleaning, trimming and supplying them with coal-oil.
When the chores were done I was free to swim, wander in the woods, take out the boat, build a tree house or just lie lazily in the grass and watch the clouds drift by. All that was required was to show up for meals. Those were the days of freedom I have seldom known since."
Frances kept the waterfront cabin near Owen Sound, Ontario, until her death. A photo from 1945, left to right, my father, John Miller, mom, Evelyn Miller, my aunt Catherine (Miller) Best, holding my cousin Joe Best and a visitor. I was born in the 1950s and they brought me to Driftwood too.
