Welcome to Orillia, where the pace is a little slower, the nature is plentiful, and the smiles are everywhere. We designed our community to accommodate many different lifestyles and people all joined by a shared love of nature, community, and all things FRESH. In anticipation of our upcoming exclusive VIP Registrant Opening we wanted to give you a sneak peek at what we imagine life will be like at FRESH.
To ensure you are in the loop on our VIP Registrant Sales Event make sure you are registered! Full details are coming soon. For now, keep reading to learn more about our homeowners, Mark, Marsha, and Walter.
Not just any Saturday—the perfect Saturday. You know the one: no one’s coming over later in the evening, you wake up well rested but still some time around 9, and the only messages you have are ones with questions long since answered by someone else.
Mark was having one of these Saturdays. He knew it. When his eyes fluttered open and the sunshine of the Sunshine City flooded his vision, he knew this was the perfect Saturday in Fall. So, when he reached for his phone and saw 14 missed calls, 47 emails, and the time, he was confused.
He looked at the time again. 9:30 am. That wasn’t terrible, especially for a Saturday. His eyes found the date:
Mark would say his job was demanding. He would say that he put in long hours but played just as hard as he worked, and that ultimately, he liked his work enough to stay. With both work and life being increasingly more “from home” this year, work had somehow become more demanding, much to his partner’s chagrin. Alex suggested moving out of the city, finding somewhere calmer and new since neither of them were confined to an office anymore and Mark agreed—as long as they moved somewhere with enough room for him to have his own office, shut off and away from everything. Mark jumped from his bed, threw on his now customary dress shirt and sweats, and ran from his bedroom to his office, 27 steps becoming 14. He sat down in his chair, heart racing, and began typing furiously.
For about two hours straight Mark typed, and called, and read, and successfully quelled the craziness of this particular Friday morning. At long last he leaned back in his chair and looked up from his computer and out his window. Lake Couchiching’s sparkling was only interrupted by small figures dotting the shoreline, the people of Mark’s new home enjoying the same scenery as him—just up close.
Mark smiled, got up from his desk and walked outside, deciding this was the perfect time to walk into town for lunch.
Marsha’s eyes absently looked at her list of things to do: grab a cake - Mariposa Market; pick up Teddy’s gift - Manticore Books; paper plates, etc at Giant Tiger (see other list). Not to mention preparing dinner, setting up the terrace, and everything else that goes into planning a grandson’s birthday party.
Luckily, Marsha had a plan. She was organized by nature, a retired court stenographer from Toronto looking for a change of pace after a lifetime of halfheartedly participating in conflict. Carm was definitely not organized, which is why Marsha did all the planning. From the kids’ after school activities when they were young, to keeping finances in line—Marsha had just accepted that was her strong suit, and she loved that Carm was always willing to take direction.
But when Marsha wanted things to be “perfect” (a word she was trying to use less), she did it all herself. And one way she made sure she could do that was to give herself more than enough time to get everything prepared.
Which is why she had started preparing for Friday’s limited gathering on Monday.
Truthfully, though, Marsha was just excited. She loved the short walk into town, especially with Pebbles, their weathered, gangly Great Dane, in tow. She walked almost every day, whether it was the 24 minutes to Moose Beach or the 8 minutes to Mariposa, Marsha loved living close to everything—including the water.
Since Pebbles was ready to go and Carm was ready to eat breakfast, Marsha packed up the pup and headed out. While she had a plan, the best part of being a retired court stenographer was that she didn’t need to have one, and Orillia was always happy to oblige. Marsha kissed Carm goodbye and stepped outside (after Pebbles, of course), ready to see what the day brought her.
Walter rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing. He leaned over the vanity and got close enough to the mirror to prove, definitively, that he was seeing exactly what he was dreading.
A grey hair. A tiny, only-perceptible-to-Walter grey hair.
He knew that getting his first (to his knowledge) grey at 42 was a blessing, and that he was fortunate to have gone this long without any, especially given his line of work. He knew he was being vain, but he couldn’t help it. Tonight was the first night since the move that he and Andrea were going out, and Walter already felt old—with their youngest, Mimi, off in residence, Andrea and Walter were officially empty-nesters, finally able to do whatever they wanted.
While Andrea was loving it, Walter was a little more fragile about it. Andrea was perfectly able to say they should find their own way, Walter was a worrier, and now that he couldn’t worry about his kids, he worried about what that meant for him.
Walter sighed. It’s all good, he decided, and looked out the window. Pete and Molly will be here any minute, he thought. The four of them were going to Casino Rama for the night. Pete and Molly insisted on coming up for the weekend and Rama was their first request. There was more than enough room for guests; they even had a hammock on their rooftop terrace for those beautiful summer nights. Walter took a last look at the grey and walked into the bedroom, dress shirt and pants laid out. Andrea insist they all dress up.
They had a full weekend ahead: tonight’s show at the Casino and then some drinks and table games. Saturday they would go into town and visit Couchiching Brewing (Pete is a connoisseur) and the myriad other shops. Sunday’s weather made it Boat Day: with the extra money they had from the sale of their previous home Walter was able to buy an old-but-decent boat with a loud-but-strong Evinrude bow-mount.
Walter scoffed and realised he hadn’t had a weekend like this in ages, especially without having to worry about a kid being at home. He could come back to their townhouse by the water and stay up late with Pete and Molly and Andrea and not worry about setting a bad example or whatever else he irrationally worried about.
Walter heard the doorbell chime and was pulled out of his thoughts. As he listened to Andrea greet Pete and Molly, he suddenly felt a freedom he hadn’t felt since… he wasn’t even sure.
This was going to be a good weekend.
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