Ro-
mance is in the air – or
so they say at this time of year in
the heart of the Thousand Islands.
No-
thing quite welcomes summer
like the morning smell of seaweed fresh-
ly caught on some vacationer’s
pro-
pellers - excess water
draining from the boat’s engine, creat-
ing sporadic puddles up the
street.
I see no romance in
Alex Bay – too many tourists; too
old, too young – No young lovers. Not
E-
nough privacy in the
souvenir shops or bustling streets for
young lovers to embrace and watch
the
sun set or rise off the
Dock of the Bay. Mother duck leading
her ducklings towards the bread crumbs the
old-
er generation has
cast aside for them in the fishy
water. Kids just don’t know what ro-
mance
is anymore. Perhaps
because Spring is ending and not be-
ginning. I must find the romance
in
these islands. There was a
story passed down through the years of Boldt
and his lady and Hart Island.
He
re-named it Heart Island
and with his millions he made it just
that. A castle he built her, a
Play-
house for the kids. Gardens
and walkways, a Yacht House, a Tower.
All this he built for his love.
Can
you imagine, waking
up every morning to the smell, the
sounds of an island called yours? In
the
midst of the St. Lawrence,
the freshness, the cool, the sun beating
down on your grass, your estate. How
ro-
mantic an idea.
Of the one-thousand, seven-hundred
and ninety-three islands, this one
be-
longs to you and your love.
To travel by Ferry each day to
the Bay, to dine every night at
Cav-
allario’s Seafood
and Steak. Oh the wonders of Alex
Bay – I found romance after all.