The cabin comes home

Yesterday I went out to Cliff's shop looking for him; he was nowhere around, and the little John Deere was missing.  I figured he was probably mowing pasture, so I came back in the house.  Looking out the window toward the back of the place, I saw something moving and realized he was moving the cabin.  I couldn't let something like that go undocumented, so in spite of the heat I headed back there.

He was re-hooking the chain when I got there; he soon started backing the tractor up the hill toward home.

I was surprised he would try doing this with such a small tractor, but it seemed to be up to the task.

Bonnie did not approve; she loved lying beside the cabin in the shade, and she didn't like being rousted out of her spot.




It reminded me of "the little engine that could".

But as Cliff neared the gate out of the pasture, the cabin got stuck.  He tried and tried, but the John Deere had gone as far as it was going to go with such a load.





It was time to call in the big guns:  The 1655 Oliver, which hardly batted an eye at the task.

The Ollie hauled the cabin the rest of the way to its new location...

 and set it almost in its place.  It took awhile to get it exactly where it ought to be, and it wasn't yet level.  But it was home.

A long overdue night at the cabin

I've wanted to spend a night in the cabin with Iris since I got her, but for the several weeks she was snotting, I preferred not to sleep with her.  She's been snot-free for about three weeks, and I decided the time was right.
  
In some ways, I dreaded going to the cabin after such a long time away:  Mice have a tendency to take over during an extended vacancy.  However, I was pleasantly surprised to see plenty of mouse poison still in place, which is a sure sign there's been no recent rodent activity.
  
Bugs were another story, though.  There were many dead bodies of the ever-present Asian Lady Beetles; various kinds and sizes of spiders scurried away at my approach.  Cluster flies buzzed at the windows.  I sprayed the place liberally with Raid and swept up the dead bodies, then set my lounge chair up in the shade and began to read the book I'd taken with me:  "Still Woman Enough" by Loretta Lynn.  


I took only one picture at the cabin this trip, a grisly one.  I keep one of those sticky mouse pads out at all times; usually I only find bugs of various sizes stuck on them, although a couple of mice have met their death there.  Yesterday, along with assorted bugs, there were two skinks stuck to the glue... and one was still alive.
  

Rather sad, really.  I like skinks.  But there was nothing I could do to save the little guy, and his friend was already dead.   

In 2004, when Cliff put the cabin in the spot where it stands today, I could see the Missouri River from the front deck.  The trees and brush have totally blocked that view.  It is an impossible task to keep the foliage open, and I now accept the coziness and isolation of the encroaching woods.  


Originally I stored a few basic implements at the cabin, and kept coffee and a coffee pot there.  I even had a camp-stove, intending to make a grilled cheese sandwich occasionally, or heat up some soup.  I pictured myself spending two days at a time back there... my own little Walden.  You know what they say about "the best-laid schemes".   Turns out the only cooking I do at the cabin is to hold a hot dog or marshmallow over my campfire.  As for coffee, I've found I prefer to walk back to my nice air-conditioned house where I can take a shower to get the smokey smell off myself, and drink wonderful coffee made in my Bunn Coffeemaker.  Yeah, I'm not as much of a die-hard outdoors-woman as I pictured myself to be.  


I didn't read as much of my book as I had intended because storm clouds gathered, making it an early nightfall.  Before long it started raining, and Iris and I turned in around eight o'clock.  I love being at the cabin when it rains, although I don't enjoy waking up with a full bladder and going out in the rain to relieve myself.  After one such trip outside (at 2 A.M.), I crawled back into my sleeping bag and lay awake pondering those skinks, wondering how they got in.  It occurred to me that if a skink can get in the cabin, so could a snake.  I thought back to some old western I saw as a child where a cowboy woke up with a snake curled up on his chest; it had crawled in bed with him seeking heat.  I mused on this for perhaps twenty minutes, and then went back to sleep.   


And so it goes at my cabin in the woods.  It isn't for the faint of heart, my friends.

At last, a night at the cabin

Believe me, the cabin is no place for the faint-of-heart. A tree-frog was hanging on the door as I unlocked it.

The cabin has been deserted awhile, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at the bug casings and actual dead bugs I found. This is a sticky-trap; I put these out for mice, but I've only gotten one mouse with them. I do think, if you click on the picture to enlarge it, you can see the remains of a tiny skink, though. That's a shame, because I like skinks. Not in my bed, of course.

Nor should I have been shocked when a fat mouse jumped out of the mouse-bait box atop my books and ran straight up the wall.

I put a new box of mouse-poison out and started sweeping.

Then I cut my lawn which, as you can see, was overgrown.

These are my lawn-mowing tools at the cabin.

I've had "Pillars of the Earth" laying by my chair here at the house for a long time, but the size of it is so daunting I've barely made a dent in it. So I spent a couple of hours reading in my lounge chair behind the cabin.

Getting wood for my campfire, I found this interesting bug, over an inch long; I haven't decided whether those are actually his eyes, or some sort of camouflage to keep people from seeing his real eyes. He really didn't appreciate having his stick of wood thrown onto the fire.

Sadie normally won't go within ten feet of a fire; smoke makes her sneeze. But she spent a half-hour digging around a big rock at my campfire, so I finally lifted it up a little and some tiny creature the size of a mouse (maybe it was a mouse) took off with unbelievable speed. Sadie was in hot pursuit, but of course he got away.

I used to be able to get a good look at the sunset through these trees, but they've gotten so big you have to work at seeing it now. I also used to have a view of the river bottom, but the trees grew up and took that away. I don't mind, because I have a wonderful view of the sunset from my yard, these days.

I enjoyed my fire until 9:30 or so; then Sadie and I went to bed; we heard thunder approaching. I love being at the cabin when it's storming.

I used to go to the cabin to get away from the crowd up here; it seemed as though people were constantly in my face. I couldn't step outside my door without some kid making a comment about where I was going or what I was doing. I also went back for the peace and quiet: the old two-story house sits right on the gravel road. We have kids riding noisy four-wheelers back and forth constantly, stirring up dust; and neighbors who don't believe in having mufflers on their cars.

Since we moved back away from the road, all that is a thing of the past, and I no longer need the cabin. I've thought about having Cliff do away with it, but after last night, I've decided it's a nice thing to have, and it isn't hurting anything back there. If nothing else, it's a nice place for bugs and mice to get out of the weather.

Cliff has always told me, "The mice were there first; you chose to go sleep in their domain."

And of course, he's right. That doesn't keep me from putting out poison, though.

Who needs a cabin?

My longtime readers have seen plenty of pictures of my cabin in the woods. It came about because Cliff fulfilled a wish of mine for a place where I could go and get away from all the people and traffic around here. There was a time I'd try to spend at least one night a week back there with my dog. Sadie (and Mandy before her) both enjoyed staying at the cabin because they were allowed to sleep on the air mattress with me. And also because there's always something for a dog to do in the woods.

It's been a cold spring, with nights in the 40's and 50's. So that has kept me from sleeping at the cabin. But truth be told, now that we're back here away from the road, I pretty much have all the benefits of the cabin (in my back yard, at least) along with the comforts of home.

I can start a fire in the firepit and watch Sadie nosing around the place.

If I were to take a notion to get on the computer, it's right on the other side of that window. Of course, I could bring the laptop outside with me, too.

I can enjoy the sunset in peace and quiet.

I have an Internet radio to play my Pandora stations for me.

And there's a bathroom and a kitchen and running water. Oh, and air conditioning when it's hot. I have none of these comforts in the woods.

So I'm not sure how much I'll be using the cabin. I don't think it will be often.

What a day!

This was taken from my cabin this evening; it looks down on the area where I rode my horse this morning; you can see the green of the winter wheat, the same patch I took a picture of from horseback. It is not accessible from my place; I have to ride down the road to get there.
Click on the picture to make it larger.

It was if we were given the gift of an April day today.

After breakfast, I had Cliff get the tiller started for me and I actually planted some garden! Don't worry, I only planted lettuce and peas; hard freezes and snow won't hurt them. I also planted radishes, which is pretty cold-tolerant. It was cheap seed, so no biggie if it doesn't make it, and I got to do something spring-like on a spring-like day.

After Cliff left for work I was relaxing in my recliner with Sadie on my lap when I realized that, according to the forecast, there won't be more days like this for awhile.

I wear out easily these days, but I didn't want to waste the last two hours of a perfect day in the house. So I got two Nathan's hot dogs out of the freezer, tossed them into a baggie and then into my cabin bag, and Sadie and I were off to the cabin. When she sees the cabin bag she knows where we're headed, and gets all excited.

I started a small fire and figured I'd play Frisbee with Sadie, but she had evidently seen movement in the woodpile and was so obsessed with it, she didn't even worry about the hot dog I was eating off a stick (I didn't take bread).

I read a couple of old poems and made a video of Sadie's foolish barking, then doused my fire. I'm very thankful I chose the cabin over my recliner. Sadie is even happier with that decision than I am.

Escaping from the Asian Lady Beetles

It happens every year: Once the farmers have harvested all the soybeans in the fields, the bugs who lived in those fields start looking for a warm place to spend the winter. Those spots on the outside of my window? Multicolored Asian Lady Beetles. They are not the ladybugs I used to read about in Mother Goose (fly away home); these pests were imported by our government to help control aphids.

Have a closer look. For a really close look, click on the picture. If you smash these little creatures, they have an unpleasant odor; they've been known to bite, too.

They look for cracks and crevices around windows and doors where they can sneak inside. They want to live with me! At the old house, many of them did get in, and in spring it seems I spent half my time vacuuming up ladybugs. We'll see how many of them make it inside this trailer house. It's much better insulated, with no drafts at all. So far the only ones I've seen inside sneaked in when we opened the door. By the way, there's no extermination method for them, which you'll see if you go to this USDA site and scroll down to "prevention and control".

Anyhow, I needed to get away from the lady beetles for awhile, so Sadie and I went to the cabin. The bugs don't like shade, so there are very few of them in the woods. I started a fire and read from a book called "Poems For A Good and Simple Life". With no distractions, I could ponder the meaning of each line.



We stayed for a couple of hours before the evening chill got the best of us.


Amazing how something written in the 1600's can apply so well to today.


I love this. So short, so simple, so true.

A skink!

Sadie and I spent a night at my cabin last night. I spent some time taking things out of there that I don't use: cooking stoves and utensils, for example.

When I first planned the cabin, I imagined myself and my dog spending perhaps twenty-four hours at a time there... maybe more. My own little vacation hideaway. My husband doesn't enjoy camping, I do. My husband doesn't want a dog on his bed; I thought it would be a treat for Mandy, the dog I owned at the time, to sleeping with me (and she did enjoy that).

I imagined the smell of bacon wafting through the woods on the crisp, morning air, and drinking strong campfire coffee.

That didn't happen much.

Washing dishes isn't fun in a cramped space with no hot water, I found. And although the cabin is out of sight of my house, it takes only five to ten minutes to walk to the house from there and take a nice shower (to get the campfire smell off me) and make some REALLY good coffee.

Here's how a visit to the cabin usually plays out: I head back there around four in the afternoon; I spend a couple of hours getting a decent campfire started (starting fires is not one of my talents), roast a hot dog and a couple of marshmallows over the fire, read and perhaps play Frisbee or "stick" with Sadie until dark, and go to bed. I'm usually awake before daylight, heading home. This can be quite exciting, considering how much electric fence I have to avoid out there.

Sometimes I just go to the cabin for a couple of hours to hang out, then come home.

So Cliff left a trailer back there and I loaded some stuff on it. I replaced the big table with a much smaller one. I noticed a rug was in need of shaking and tossed it out on my little porch.

Coming back from a trip to the trailer, I noticed a skink, a little blue-tailed lizard that's very common in Missouri. They love to hang out in my woodpile, but I've never been able to get a picture of one. They just move so fast!

This little fellow, though, went under the rug to hide, so I ran for my camera. Sure enough, when I lifted the rug, there he was; he even lay still for awhile, long enough for me to snap a few shots of him.

Isn't that tail a lovely color of blue?

I love living in the country

Yes, I complain sometimes about druggie neighbors and lazy neighbors and loud neighbors, but I love where we live. And those neighbors? They give me something about which to feel holier-than-thou and superior. As Kris Kristofferson once wrote, "Everybody's gotta have somebody to look down on."

At 4 PM yesterday, Sadie and I went back to my cabin in the woods to spend the night.

Cliff's been mowing various areas of the pasture lately; when I saw these flowers grouped at the edge of a cavern during a walk, I said, "Did you leave those growing because they're so pretty?"

"No," he answered. "I left them because I didn't want to kill myself on the tractor."

Oh. There for a minute I thought I was getting a glimpse of Cliff's romantic nature.

The yard of my cabin, such as it is, is pretty weedy this year. That's OK, I have a lawn mower at the cabin.

Here it is. Hey, it isn't a big yard!

This is the path in front of the cabin that leads down into one of our deep, deep hollers. It's usually more worn than this; most years I ride Blue down the path quite a bit. Cliff's been so busy with our move that he hasn't had time to mow the stinging nettle that is so prevalent in the woods, and I don't like to make my horse suffer from itch-weed.


I do believe a seedling oak of some sort managed to grow in my unused path! I'm going to wait for a rain, then dig it up and bring it back here. It'll be neat to have something in my new yard that came from "back at the cabin".

I'm pretty sure that delicate viney plant on the right is poison ivy. Possibly due to my dark complexion, poison ivy has never affected me. As a teenager at camp, I used to pick it and rub it on myself to show off to the other kids. Then I read somewhere that you can go for years being able to touch the stuff, and suddenly one day it can get you. So I no longer handle it deliberately. Besides, Cliff is terribly allergic to it, and I'd hate to bring it home to him on my skin.

Sadie and I enjoyed hot dogs and marshmallows. While it was daylight, I read a book and Sadie explored the woods. We were in bed on my inflated air mattress by 9 o'clock, and slept through until 5 A.M. The moon was almost as bright as the sun when we had turned in, but this morning a thick fog made it difficult to get back to the house without running into electric fence. Thank goodness I had a flashlight.

I often wonder what my readers think about a woman of my age playing house in the woods with only a dog for company. Most ladies I've talked to say they'd be scared to death back there.

I guess I'm just weird.

My cabin

My original reasons for wanting a cabin in our woods were these:

I like to camp out; Cliff does not.

I wanted someplace to escape the feeling that there were always eyes on me; no matter where I went in our old yard, somebody was lurking. I said many times, "I may as well live in the city!"

I wanted my dog to be able to sleep on my bed sometimes.

I love the woods.

I enjoy a campfire.

So, Cliff kindly rebuilt a discarded pool house someone had given us years ago, and there was my cabin. I used it almost once a week, the first summer.

The next summer, Cliff was recovering from CABG surgery (heart bypass) and I really didn't want to sleep anywhere but beside him.

Last year I went to the cabin perhaps half a dozen times.

Originally I had visions of cooking breakfast and making campfire coffee. In reality, though, I found it preferable to walk to the house, once I awoke in the morning, and have some really good coffee. The only cooking I did at the cabin, as it turns out, was to put hot dogs and marshmallows on a stick and roast them.

Still, when the crowds closed in on me, I loved having my retreat. Cliff built me a crude outhouse there, but I usually ended up "going" on the grass. That's because I rather feared what might be lurking in the outhouse after dark.

This year, I've spent exactly two nights at the cabin, and here we are at mid-summer.

The thing is, now that we're in the mobile home, I'm not overrun with kids and dogs and noisy motorcycles. I seldom see any dogs here except for Sadie, and I can barely hear the idiot on the four-wheeler who used to grate on my last nerve.

Oh, and I bought a fire pit, so I can have a campfire right here at the house if I so desire.

Tuesday evening I decided Sadie and I would sleep at the cabin. We went back around 7 P.M., and I started a nice bonfire before I inflated the air mattress. I ate supper at the house, so there was no food this time.

Notice the grass grown up in my fire ring.

Sadie played with a young toad for over an hour.


It's still relaxing back there, and enjoyable. I went to sleep to the music of frogs and cicadas, with my dog beside me.

I believe I'll keep the cabin, even if I only use it three or four times a year.

Suddenly enlightened

Yesterday evening my dog and I went to sit on a mound of excavated dirt in my future back yard, and I realized something about our new home location: I may not need my cabin in the woods any more, once we're moved.

Our present house sits right at the edge of a road, with neighbors in three directions. Sometimes it feels like I'm living in a fishbowl; nothing goes unobserved. This is why, three years ago, Cliff took an old shed and turned it into a "cabin" where my dog and I could retreat from the crowd, have a campfire, and meditate (Sadie is quite the meditate-er, you know). Sometimes I'll head back there to spend a night; other times I'll simply spend two or three hours. It's like a mini-vacation. It was especially refreshing to go to the cabin and unwind back when I had the stress of a job.

As I sat in the pasture last night, I realized how easy it would be to have a fire pit behind the mobile home. I love sitting at a bonfire; it's one of the big perks of having my cabin. (My dog, Sadie, is scared of fire, especially when it pops and cracks. So she's usually standing at the back side of the cabin while I'm at the front, if the fire's going. Which means I have to choose between having a fire or having my dog's companionship.)

I Googled "firepit" and found all sorts of advice on building one. Although of course we could do exactly as we did at the cabin: Place a ring of stones in a circle and start a fire. But it doesn't look as though it's complicated to go ahead and do it right.

Anyway, when we're moved, the cabin may become unnecessary. My home might have enough peace and quiet to suit me. Especially with a bonfire in the back yard for atmosphere, whenever I want it.

the cup

As always, click on any picture to make it larger.

On my rides to the river, there was one spot where I loved to stop, get off my horse, and poke around. I called it the ghost farm. I always got the feeling that Blue enjoyed the place, too.

I'd peek into the old sheds, wondering what sort of livestock had called them home.

I tried to imagine what the purpose of each building had been.

I once knew a lady who lived in the house; she was the teacher of my adult Sunday School class at the local Baptist Church, years ago. I loved to imagine what life had been like for her, living tucked away in a bank on a hillside in what once had been a coal miner's shack.

Most of the sheds couldn't even be seen from the road.

I'd poke around in the leaves for things that had been thrown away... but I never disturbed a thing. I only looked, and sometimes touched.

Discarded items from lives lived long ago.

Then one day I saw this cup with no handle, and it haunted me until, three days later, I rode back and got it.

I'm so glad I did, because less than a month later, the new owners of the property burned every shed to the ground.

The cup with no handle seems right at home in the cabin my husband fixed up for me at the back of our place, and it reminds me of the fun I had snooping around the ghost farm with my horse.


When I'm at my cabin, as I was a few hours ago, and see the cup, it reminds me of all the fun times my horse and I enjoyed at the ghost farm, just looking at somebody's discarded yesterdays.

At the cabin last night

I took the tripod and camera with me to the cabin yesterday and got these shots.

Sadie, as usual, has the Frisbee.

She's trying to force me to throw the Frisbee. Bad news, though. I threw it, and the wind caught it and took it to the treetops. We've lost another Frisbee. It isn't a real Frisbee, since I can't throw those very well. It's an Aerobie Superdisc that I paid a bundle for. Good thing I have a couple of extras.



This is Sadie in the woods, looking for something to chase.

unplugging tonight

My dog and I are heading back to our cabin in the woods pretty soon. No computer, no TV, no electricity. Just Sadie and myself. Grandson will be in charge of the house. I imagine I'll be back here early in the morning; coffee tastes better made in the coffee pot here at the house. But I'm taking enough Folgers to make a pot of cowboy coffee, just in case.

It'll be a peaceful night.

Oh, I'll have my cell phone, so I'm not totally out of reach.

Silly mutt

I use an air mattress back at my cabin in the woods; I don't leave it aired up all the time, because I don't sleep back there very often; when I'm going to spend a night, I air it up with a hand-pump.

The pump makes a squeaking noise that drives Annie crazy. Here's a video that shows her in action. Turn on your sound.

More thoughts from my cabin

Among the books at my cabin is a complete set of The Book of Knowledge, published in the mid-1950's. My daughter inherited these books when they bought their house, and she let me have them.

When you open up the cover of any volume, here's what you see. I loved this, when I was ten years old!

A picture of a "modern" assembly line.


I made a recent entry about locust thorns.




It seems that in the 1950's, smoke was a good sign. My, how times have changed.

Click on any of the pictures to make them larger.