Photo Courtesy: This flickr photostream
A lonely cabin perched upon the side of a hill suddenly illumined by the light of morning with rays dancing against the imperfect and raw wood siding of the house is etched in pages of my mind. It was only a house, and the life, the home, the heart was inside. Simplicity garnered felicity in my surroundings. The windows allowed the light in as a welcome guest with curtains of sheer cream that blew effortlessly in the summertime. There were but three rooms; a bathroom, a bedroom and an open community room with a stove, a loveseat and a handmade wooden table with four chairs nestled around. Within the corner of the community room sat my favorite piece of all. It was a writing desk full of ideas, sketchings, dried flowers, bottles with sand from all over the world, a wren feather, and pens for me to craft my favorite places on earth and other worlds. I was never so happy as running free and wild in my imagination where no harm could befall me unless I allowed it to be so. The most glorious time of day was just before sunset when the world felt warmer with the sun bestowing a blessing of orange, yellow and red in rays upon the grass, the sod roof of the cabin and the garden resting up for it’s debut in spring. The anticipation of the changing seasons and the simple pleasures of a life lived were enough to make me gratefully content. Mealtime was something to be treasured in both the preparation and the crafting of dishes with hands that had long worked to gather the vegetables, knead the dough and lovingly set the table. Evenings at the cabin were spent in simplicity, reading by the fire, taking a moonlight walk in the woods or telling stories composed of memory or make-believe. Maybe it was the stark, eggshell walls with few pictures hung. Or maybe it was the way the wind whistled through the leaves in the live oak fifty feet from the front door. Perhaps it was promise of adventure in the woods not far down the hill that held a sense of mystery and wonder for me. But something about that little cabin in the woods was bathed in comfort, felt strongly of acceptance and possessed a spirit so in line with mine that I returned year after year.