The Saddest Day of the Year

It is always the saddest day of the year.

The sky over the water will be set afire no more.

From the water, watching the sun set is always fabulous.  But that's over for this year.

The Smores are history.

But I want some more!

There is no place to sit by the fire pit.
Fire mound, really...it needs to be cleaned out.

The lawn chairs a stacked by the cooler, with care.

The kayaks and collector's-item-canoe are tucked away
where the snow and ice will barely touch them.

No longer needed, 
the paddles have been disassembled according to Bob's instructions,
and are hidden in their corner.

Bob says that one must disassemble paddles from time to time, lest they lose their two part nature.  Sounds reasonable, and I always follow good advice.  And yes, sometimes bad advice as well.  I've made up my mind to never again reply in the affirmative when someone suggests that a chainsaw is a better alternative.  

Silence.

Drained and blown out, the pipes are empty all the way back to the pump house.
On this sad day, one can't help but feel like the pipes...
blown out and empty.

The pink stuff is in the traps.

Essential equipment has been rendered inoperative,
and is prepared for hiatus.

And on the electrical panel...

The main breaker is off.

Sigh.

But...

There is a distinct possibility that this sadness, this malaise, this emptiness may become a thing of the past.  With greater occupancy, there is less impetus driving shutdown.  So...

The variance application has been filed with the Adirondack Park Agency.  All true and in earnest, of course, but if you find yourself in need of hooey in painful minutia, I am quite willing to share the mind-numbing supply created in completing this application.

If you're going to create something more habitable, you want the basement floor to be above the flood plain, don't you?  And since the shallow pitched roof of the garage succumbed to the weight of snow in 2003, you'd kinda want to be sure the new roof is steep enough to shed that weight, right?  So we're asking for 2 more feet of height than the regulations allow.  And a couple hundred more square feet, so that we'll only feel inconvenienced, not cramped, when everyone arrives for the holidays.

Our Architect, in addition to throwing parties at the existing camp, has provided us with renderings of options for rebuilding.  What do you think?  Where would you prefer to swat blackflies?  On which deck would you rather sip your cocktail when you come to visit?

Option 1:  Nouveau Adirondack Lean-to
Mary's silhouette is enjoying the view.

Option 2:  Roofines similar to the original,
with lovely scissor-trusses.

Get your votes in now!