Monday, March 31, 2014

It's Not Like The Movies

Lately I've seen a few posts by people who adore little cabins in the woods. The photos they share are of small log structures or cedar shacks with flower boxes ,a clear flowing spring nearby and pecking chickens dotting the yard.
And nearly every person says, "I could live here!"

Easy for you to say. 

What will you do without closets? Those big bulky coats and dozens of shoes won't fit under the sofa or the rocker. You can't hang them on the fireplace and snow will surely ruin them on the screened porch. Put them in bins? And where do you stack the bins? At the foot of the bed so you can trip over them every night? On the kitchen counter so you can move them 3 times a day in order to cook?

What do you do when company comes? Let them all pile on the bed, sit on the coffee table, stand at the doorway and play games on the floor?

Where do you possibly have room for luxuries like stew pots, griddles, blenders, pressure cookers and food processors? Where do you put spices, utensils, Tupperware and extra plates? How do you even begin to cook a big meal with a four foot counter space and no kitchen table?

How do you survive with only a shower? Won't you miss a long, hot bubble bath? Soaking your sore muscles from hauling firewood? Wouldn't you go crazy without the opportunity now and then to let Calgon take you away?

Where do you put all your cool stuff? Like the retro bar cart, martini glasses, giant art pieces, photographs, guitars, collections, seasonal decor and keepsakes?

Where do you store your bills and financial papers? Your favorite books? Your dogs toys? Those extra blankets, pillows, comforters and rugs?

Do you just do without extras? Do you adapt to the smallness of life? Do you sacrifice the things you love having around you for acres of woods and a log fortress? 

Would you really love to live there,  or just think you would?

The trickling spring is usually is home for bugs, snakes, salamanders and critters. Those sweet white chickens turn dirty and stinky. The flower boxes fill up with snow in the winter. The yard turns muddy. The forest turns gray. The little cabin fills up with fever so intense you think you might just break. You reek of firewood and cooked bacon and Deepwoods Off. Your skin is tattooed with bug bites and thorn pricks. And if your husband plays Stairway to Heaven on his guitar one more time, you might get out the shovel and start digging a six foot hole.

Yes, those little pristine places are so cute. Quite beautiful, in fact.
But you really don't want to live there.

Trust me, I know.


  1. I enjoyed this post. I have found myself in such a spot in my life. I told myself it would be the adventure of a lifetime and I certainly had rose colored glasses on. I signed up to work a 5 month season at a guest ranch far away in the mountains. The only way you could get there was by boat or airplane. 3 months into it was a disaster. The man who treated us so well when we were guests turned out to be a tyrant to his employees. I finally had to bail out and find my happiness again...and that took me about 6 months to find me again. I have never been very good at taking my time, reasoning out things and being sure of what I am doing and dedicating my self to a long term commetment. I do hope my days of wanderlust are gone and I can really settle in and appreciate where I am and what I have at this stage of my life. I do not know if I could have made such a move as you two did and if I could have stuck it out as you are. I hope your love for your little piece of heaven grows even more on you and you will fall in love with it even more with each new season. Hugs, Gail

  2. Thank you, Gail! Luckily, spring has arrived and work outside has left me little time for pity parties. When I watch the bluebirds and see the pear tree blooming and the sky fills up with stars at night, I know why I live here. It's all good...