The Cabin (Summer, 2009)

Right now the troops are all converging on our haven at blooming grove. They are jamming to some tunes, forgetting their numbing week of work, and anticipating the long, dark highway’s end, the 1871 entrance, gravel roads, a few turns, and the warm home, pumping smoke from its chimney, mystical and romantic and grounded all the same, a familiar, friendly escape for a few days. Smell the sweet, forest air, the cool clear night…the stone path curves towards the entrance. After finding the key and opening the front door, you’re left with the dilemma of turning left and grabbing an old Heineken from the storage room fridge, or turning right, dropping your stuff in the hallway, and making a u-turn towards the same destination. Tough choices at the cabin, but time is precious, so best to do things quickly and thoroughly. James…put on some catchy indie tunes, Jeff…grab the shot glasses and get things rolling….Ben…provide the incredibly deep and witty observations…Greg…keep us laughing with stories from the past weekend and shenanigans later in the night. Congregate in the study, pour a beer in a wine glass, burn a cigar, kick your feet up and throw an extra log on the fire. It’s going to be a long night. With friends, the tunes and booze and satisfaction bubble into a concoction nothing short of ecstasy. Drink coffees, redbulls, and monsters; beers, wines, and liquors – it’s balance and it’s love and you don’t want it to end…a beautiful night.

Sleep in comfort and wake up groggy, albeit cured by a hearty, late morning breakfast, an inspiring kitchen view into winter’s wilderness, and copious amounts of caffeine. Although unnecessary, try to balance some wholesome endeavors with the destructiveness of the previous evening. Clean the kitchen and the study, empty the garbage cans, plan a dinner and crowd into the car, down more gravel roads for a refreshing walk. The stream…tempting…should we jump?....better yet, how to make the moment last? A constant theme at the cabin...moments full of clarity…time too fast…constantly squeezing the day. The pines sway in the winds and the moss warms the cold stone as the water pours over the edge into the pool. The cliff and rocks across the water weeping icicles and frosty mist. Walk back up the path away from the stream, remembering old fires and nights, old celebrations and dances…you can’t get lost in those woods.

Return and prepare for the evening festivities. Fires are built, drinks are poured, steaks are seared, ping pong balls bounce, quarters ting, with music blaring and people laughing, smoke rising to the stars in the sky. Conversations explore the intricacies of life…a library full of knowledge, a mind without inhibition, youth and adult in one…quite the combination. Eyes grow weary and hearts sadly realize the moon falling in the sky...

Beds are made, sheets are cleaned, delay the inevitable but it’s time to leave. Look at the book, but don’t sign it, because words really can’t capture the essence of the escape, the depth of the nourishment, the appreciation of the moment and the anticipation for the next. Turn right away from the woods, the stream, the home and the night, and back towards reality.