Every year, from the end of June to the end of August, Bruce and his family go to their cedar-clad cottage on the blue, wide lake. At first, this summer of 1954 seems like any other: floating in the row boat with Grace from next door, jumping off the diving raft, eating peach pie, exploring with Angus the dog, watching the seagulls, frogs and herons and catching crayfish.But just when he realizes life is perfect, everything starts to change. He’s ten, the family dynamics are shifting, and over the summer both the harshness of the adult world and the patterns of the natural world reveal themselves. By the time the weather turns he will be a different child, and will have chosen his own path to understanding the wilderness that waits behind their wooden homes. Funny, subtle and true, Barefoot at the Lake transports us to a long, hot, poignant summer.

To ten-year-old Bruce, the summer of 1954 seemed, at first, like any other on the lake: floating in the rowboat, watching the seagulls, frogs and herons, catching crayfish. But just when he thinks that life is perfect, everything starts to change, and over the summer both the harshness of the adult world and the patterns of the natural reveal themselves. By the time the weather turns he will be a different child and will have chosen his own path to understanding the wilderness that waits behind the family cottage.

Lake Chemong, 1954. Every summer, from June to August, the Fogle family pack up and leave the big city of Toronto, escaping to their white, cedar-clad cottage, the last in a row of a cluster of houses nestled in primordial forest on a wide, ink-blue lake. Mr Fogle, a silent mountain of a man, built the cottage himself. In the mind of ten year old Bruce, his father is brown and green, the colours of the land, his whip smart, gregarious mother, a vivid and fiery red. This year, joining his parents, his older brother Rob and Angus the family dog, is his mother's wise and enigmatic brother, Reub. At first, this summer break seems like any other. Bruce spends his days floating in the row boat with Grace from next door, jumping off the diving raft, eating peach pie, watching the seagulls and herons, observing frogs and turtles and catching crayfish. Relishing the heat of the sun on his bare skin and the sludge of the lakebed beneath his toes, he, even at this young age, understands his life is pretty perfect. But then everything starts to change. Family dynamics are shifting, and over the summer both the harshness of the adult world and the thoughtless cruelty of children leave their mark. By the time the weather turns Bruce will be a different child, and will have chosen his own path to understanding the shifting, fragile wilderness that frames their summer idyll. Teeming with wonderful characters, Barefoot at the Lake is the story of a boy discovering his place in the world and realising his deep connection with nature. It is a memoir that will utterly transport you - you'll feel the sun on your face, the pebbles of the lake under foot and catch the scent of the pine on the wind.

A beautiful memoir of summer people and water creatures, which illustrates the formative effects of nature on children by an author who has forged a career caring for animals. For readers of Raynor Winn's THE SALT PATH, John Lewis-Stemple's STILL WATER and Gerald Durrell's MY FAMILY AND OTHER ANIMALS. Year after year the family returns to the lake. The children, barefoot and free, explore its sun-drenched wilderness. Bruce Fogle recounts his childhood summers spent at the family cabin by the lake. In an atmospheric new foreword, Bruce's son, wildlife presenter Ben Fogle, shares his experiences spending summers in the very same cabin. The summer Bruce turns ten seems, at first, like any other: swimming out to the raft, watching the gulls, frogs and herons, catching crayfish. But just when he thinks that life is perfect, everything begins to change, and over the course of two months both the harshness of the adult world and the patterns of the natural world reveal themselves. Barefoot at the Lake is not only a beautifully written boy's-eye view of the animals, humans and landscape of his youth, it is also delightfully funny, with a moving wisdom at its heart.

"The Wyoming Centennial Wagon Train ended in Cody in a dismal, torn-down drive-in movie theater. Before setting up the corral, we were forced to clear away shards of glass, bent nails, broken lumber. My prairie skirt and petticoats hung ragged and clay-caked, and under a droopy Stetson my frizzled hair appeared at once greased and starched beyond human recognition. A cloud, a sort of vaporousness, redolent with fresh acrid sweat on top of powerful stale sweat, hung thickly about me. Laced, as it was, with a woman's sweet musky secretions, and all gone past ripe, oddly it was a pungency I savored. Such goaty piquance, though, was cause to be shunned in any town setting. The look of my world had changed. Gone were the high-dollar designer clothes and the zipping around fabled Marin County in a candy-apple-red 1966 Mustang convertible. It was true that I unfailingly sought the ironies in life and, with a kind of dual personality, shifted easily through incongruencies such as town strolls in high heels and backcountry hiking in bare feet; the bucket seats of a classic automobile and the broken-down bench of a beater truck. It was only during the years that Iíd worn white overalls, taped drywall, and come home every night much like Charles Schulz's Pig Pen, flaking a cloud of dried white mud bits onto the rug, that I'd felt moved to keep my fingernails painted red. Now I was to slip farther than ever planned toward one end of my seesaw and then, incredibly, by conscious design, inch out even farther." --from Barefoot-Hearted With more than 1.5 million copies in print, Kathleen Meyer's groundbreaking international bestseller, How to Shit in the Woods: An Environmentally Sound Approach to a Lost Art, has been widely embraced by the outdoor community and has found its way into myriad places: national parks, outdoor leadership schools and scout-troop headquarters, the camp tents of those who have discovered that it is amusing out-loud reading, and the bathroom-literature baskets of households around the world. Now, from the Rocky Mountain West, Meyer brings us Barefoot-Hearted: A Wild Life Among Wildlife, a coming-into-the-country story told with the frank, dry humor and sharp research of her first book. The country, in this case, is Montana's tall, reaching landscape with its ever underfoot wild critters; the on-tenterhooks territory of a new romantic relationship; and the pressure cooker that is our precarious global imbalance. Meyer finds herself in midlife standing out under yawning skies, surrounded by sagebrush and cactus, having fallen for the Irish charm of itinerant farrier Patrick McCarron. As partners, they travel across three mountain states with draft horses and a covered wagon and then set up housekeeping in a seventy-five-year-old dairy barn. In this primitive structure, the author rapidly discovers she's living with troops of mice, a nursery colony of seventy-five bats, sexually fired-up skunks, and more flies than in a pig shed. She tells of a freakish season that or-phaned seventy-seven bear cubs, an unusual fly-fishing trip on a famed blue-ribbon trout stream, the visitations of moose, and the discovery of a den of wolves. Meyer's prose is original and inspired, playful yet provocative. She carries us vividly back to the settlers' old West while pondering modern-day dilemmas, those of fitting into this fast hurtling world, of determining amid the earth's rising extinctions of species, whose planet it is, and of managing to stay empowered residing with a man who "stands six feet six and beats steel on an anvil for a living." A personal chronicle of conscience and a love story of rare and quirky dimension, Barefoot-Hearted catapults readers into new realms of thought, deftly guided there by Meyer's sense of the ironic, the randy, and the humorous.