Sunday, February 14, 2010

Our Cabin

I love all this snow -- walking/swimming through huge snowdrifts, walking outside at night when the snow is swirling all around, and being snowed in for a few days is great, especially when some of them are school days! -- but I thought of our cabin recently and suddenly had a desire to be there. Found this short description I had to write for English class recently and it reminded me of what I love about our cabin. Kinda wish it was spring and we had an excuse to take a trip up there again. . .

The lime-green paint on our cabin matches the thousands of mildew spores which cling to it, but clashes badly with the dark green pine trees around it. Two small windows on either side of the chimney give the cabin a face-like appearance. When lights are on inside, the face smiles a welcome. Right now the blinds are pulled and the face sleeps somberly. The sagging porch creaks gently as we carry our sleeping bags and backpacks across it.

Walking through the front door, the inside of the cabin is completely dark at first. We turn the breaker off every time we leave to lesson the risk of fire. At first, the cabin smells somewhat musty; it hasn't been opened in several weeks. Flipping the breaker, the lights flick on and suddenly the cabin comes to life. The carpet under our feet nice and plush, even it if does have dirt stains. The single hanging lamp gives off a subdued, comfortable light, like a candle glow reflected softly in a dark cave.

“I'm hungry,” Greg says almost as soon as we walk in. We chuckle. That's usual for him.

“You two get a fire going and the rest of you unpack while I make something to eat,” mom says, shooing everybody out of the kitchen which is so small only two people can stand in there at a time. Before long the fire has driven the cold, musty air out of the cabin and the familiar smells of hot-dogs and Busch's Baked-Beans, and Mac-and-Cheese are floating from the kitchen. The fire crackles in the old pot-bellied stove as we sit down to eat and talk about the hikes, games, and food planned for the rest of the weekend.

Two days later, as we pack up to leave, the cabin begins to return to it's lonely hibernation. It's getting close to winter and we probably won't be back up until spring. Pulling all the sleeping bags off the beds, pushing the furniture back into the corners, we slowly put the cabin back to sleep it enjoyed before we disturbed it. With the cold “snap” of the breaker being switched, the cabin turns back into a dark room. We quietly shut the door and close the latch before walking back into the real world.