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The cabin has always been called just that, “the cabin.” It was as though there was only one in the entire world. To my family there was. These are the stories about the cabin. MORE
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From our vantage point on the porch we can watch the sun crest over the canyon or the fog melt away in the mornings and the sky fill with stars at twilight. It is a front row seat view of morning arriving and the day leaving.
Read MoreTwo miles long, the cabin road has changed little in the six decades since the property was purchased. It remains an unpaved dirt road. In warm, dry weather it’s so dusty a cloud follows behind your car, leaving it covered with a thin layer of brown powder when you stop. In winter, the road becomes muddy and forms large potholes where the water pools.
Read MoreWhen my father died it was shocking. A model of good, clean living (despite the cigarette in the photo above), he was active, fit, and 56 years old. 56. So young. So young. I heard it over and over. Other people said it. I thought it repeatedly in my head. So young.
Read MoreIt might be 2016, but at the cabin it could be 1956. With the exception of a few solar panels that my Uncle Steve has installed on his place, the cabin remains as rustic as it was when it was purchased in the late 50s. There is no electricity, no telephone, no central air or heating. Some days if you have the right mobile phone and are standing at just the right spot you might get a bar or two, but other than those solar panels or that intermittent cell service a trip to the cabin means going off the grid completely.
Read MoreWhen I look at books or blogs about home décor I fantasize about what the cabin could look like with a new this or a painted that.
Read MoreYou might know that I've been working on a novel for the last 18 months. It's set at the cabin, which I've mainly fictionalized in the book. There are a few exceptions, including a scene that includes a shotgun I found in a closet once and never saw again.
Read MoreLast month we spent the weekend splitting wood, which was fine by me because the only thing I love more than stacking firewood is splitting it.
Read MoreI asked Jack to finish this sentence: When I think of the cabin, I think of BLANK.
We both agreed it was WORK. It was work when my grandfather and his brothers carved out the original footprint. It was work when my father built our cabin alongside his father. It is the work we do to maintain the cabin every time we visit.
Read MoreWe went to the cabin at the end of last month for the first time since fall. The first weekend of the year is always the best and the worst.
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