Our chalet is in the township of Saint-Étienne-de-Bolton, close to the river Missisquoi, on the shores of Lake Trousers.
Lake Trousers!
I imagine how it was named by an intrepid English explorer and his lackey.
Explorer: I've discovered and named so many majestic mountains, rivers, and inland seas, I would like to grant you the privilege of naming this delightful little lake.
Lackey: Me, m'Lord?
Explorer: You, sirrah! Behold this vista. What does it bring to mind?
Lackey: Well, I dunno really. Looks a bit like a pair of trousers, innit.
Explorer: A pair of trousers?
Lackey: Yeh. I'll call it Lake Trousers then.
Explorer: Are you quite sure, my good man? It doesn't bring to mind the rich bounties of the green and golden summer of this new world? The sweeping wings of a Loon as it thrills through the clear water in pursuit of its prey? Or perhaps, with a little more imagination, the open jaws of a ravenous wolf racing across the windswept ice in the frozen depths of winter?
Lackey: No
Explorer: (sighing) Alright so, Lake Trousers it shall be. Let posterity forgive me.
Lackey: Yay!
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