We spent the weekend

up at the little cabin, in what I have come to refer to as “the country.”

Until last year it was simply - home.  Much has changed. 

We are in an 11x 34 foot hewn log “trailer”

instead of our beautiful log cabin.

Our dogs are guests, and no longer run free at will, but on lead

or in careful co-ordination with our caretaker’s dogs to avoid possible dogfights.  

The range here is apartment sized and heats unevenly,

compared to the beautiful double fuel convection range we relinquished with the cabin.

But with all we have given up, we have gained more. When we come up here for a few days we come up without TV, and often without internet. Most importantly, we come up without worry. 

We do little, because there is little to do. The cabin can be cleaned of spiderly intruders dustbunnies and anything tracked in from last time in less than an hour. We bring food that is either already prepared or needs little cooking. When it's the right time of year, which it was this weekend, we pick berries.

We read a great deal, we walk.

look closely at the bee balm for thousands of butterflies.

ancient apple tree that still holds a full complement of small, tart green and pink apples

If we are fortunate, we listen to the rain on a tin roof. After a year in town we appreciate the silence in a way we haven’t for a long time.

Because of our most excellent caretakers, we do not worry if there is enough water. We admire the large gardens instead of weeding them.

We watch new projects take shape without our sweat equity.

We drive up without worrying if the road is being maintained.

We do not worry. We sleep well. And we write.

We write.