A week's reward

After another challenging week, the comfort of the cabin is my reward. After stocking up on beverages and provisions, Kuma d.o.g. and my worn body are ready for a trip under the light of the moon to our sanctuary in the trees.

I am so looking forward to just getting away and warming my feet by the fire. With holidays upon us, cabin time will be sporadic as life forces us to make choices; some of which must take precedence over what I truly love and enjoy.

Santa at the cabin 2012

This self portrait of Santa at the cabin was taken with a digital camera on a tripod with a 10 second timer. "Santa" had just enough time to set the camera and return to his rocker before the shutter activated. This is the second year I've taken Santa at the cabin and have already determined what 2013's picture will look like; God willing.

Hanging at the Cabin



Just hanging at the cabin with a brown dog at my side

Just hanging at the cabin with a little glass of wine

Just hanging at the cabin not a worry on my mind

 

Just hanging at the cabin where the world is always fine

 

 

 

Getting ready for the holidays

This is the first year to decorate the cabin for the holidays and I've been looking forward to getting it ready for Christmas for weeks. If you can't get in the holiday spirit when entering a warm cabin decked out in Christmas cheer, you never will.

Kuma d.o.g. spent a couple of evenings at my side while making it happen. While I was busy stringing lights and garland or putting up the tree, she layed comfortably on the sofa chewing a rawhide bone.

I'm always happy when a plan comes together and feel the atmosphere I was trying to achieve comes through; at least for me.

This morning, Jim Snodgrass and Mike Casey visited the cabin and enjoyed breakfast with us.



Ready for Santa



A Christmas Cabin

Waiting for Santa's arrival.

The magic of Christmas

Oh Christmas Tree

Christmas at the cabin

Mike Casey and Jim Snodgrass.

'Possums in the basement

November days prepare the stage for long winter nights as evenings bow to early darkness. Once the work week ends, a man with a dog has little daylight to pack and prepare for a cabin retreat.

A trip to Wal-Mart yields a basted rawhide bone for my female companion and a fleece throw for me and the sofa. We both will enjoy these simple pleasures once settled in for the night.

Darkness in the forest in mid-autumn is much deeper and more intimidating than on warm summer nights. Although not easily frightened, there is still something spooky about its silence and the absence of light in the midst of the cold barren trees.

Unloading the Jeep, I lose sight of my friend as she disappears into the black only to re-emerge minutes later with that signature wag of a Lab’s tail.

Finding the cabin too cold for comfort is not unexpected which makes the warmth of a new built fire that much more rewarding. Although Nic stacked plenty of split wood during the week to provide ample heat, a cabin feels best when sleeping under the weight of a thick comforter; cool air just beyond its grip, containing warmth of the body’s heat while cold to the touch of its outer fabric. Kuma and I both find 60 degrees perfect for sleeping which is where the temperature levels off as she settles in her bed chewing the knuckle off the rawhide bone. The new throw’s softness seems out of place in its rustic surroundings but pleasures the skin when used as a barrier between the body and the weight of a worn and heavy blanket.

Long into the night after the fire has burned down we both are awakened by a host of opossums under the cabin. The unique audible sounds they emit while communicating and brawling in their new found shelter from cold reverberates through the wooden floor leaving night’s silence broken.

The squealing and tussling continues for an undetermined time as we drift in and out of sleep.

After some unknown period passes, we both acknowledge that thick barriers provide security between our peace inside and the wild beyond the floor.  

We return to deep sleep accepting the fact we invaded their home and habitat; they did not invade ours.

 

Deposit in the Emotional Bank Account

With one foot on a sofa cushion and the other on the weathered coffee table trunk, I sit stretched out in the light of a new fire Nic built in the hearth.

Having arrived at a dark cabin on a cold November evening, it took little coordinated effort for us to establish a peaceful and solitude environment in the woods we both sought after a busy work week day.

Now in the glow of a colorful fire, we each relax in our own way.

A stick of incense from the Ohio Renaissance Festival burns slowly on a corner table saturating the cabin with a unique, yet pleasant scent neither of us recognize.

Music from National Public Radio World Cafe fills the room as Nic rocks slowly in front of the fire in the recliner while texting friends on an iPhone.

I find satisfaction nibbling roasted almonds while sipping on a glass of Merlot; just staring at the fire in the dark while listening, smelling, relaxing and counting life's Blessings.

Once again I'm reminded of that summer day years earlier as we both stepped off the footprint of our cabin dream on the forest floor and how it has now come to be.

A cabin fire

Log Splitting

An early November's sun sets quickly leaving little time in the evenings for outdoor cabin tasks.

Today, I'm reminded once again of my youthful days growing up on the farm and the evening chores that always awaited me after school. Living in an uninsulated farm house heated only be a fuel oil stove and fireplaces required daily labor from my parent's youngest son; the only one still available at home. Before milking 'Beauty', a Holstein dairy cow or putting hay and grain out for the horses, I was tasked with taking out ashes, splitting firewood and filling the wood boxes with enough fuel to sustain the fires through the following day, regardless of the weather.

The cabin also requires a generous supply of firewood on hand through Fall and Winter since this too is the primary source of heat, much like my childhood home. I'm sure the years I spent laboring behind a maul influenced a decision of foregoing the expense of a hydraulic wood splitter and relying on God-given strength of my son's and me to address the need.

With Nic leading the charge, we labored in the woods like so many times in the past until dusk forced a retreat. Its hard to say if the wood finally dried or if Nic simply mastered the art of burying the maul and splitting the logs with single, full body swings.

I was happy to carry and stack the fruit of the labor as Nic's own memories were being made to share again some day.

Nic sizing up his next challenge

A single full body swing drives though

Added a register to track all the visitors that show up at the cabin

Continue to add little things like this pine cone napkin holder