Monday, July 11, 2016

Spartan Place In The Woods...

Recently, I returned from Maine. It was the first time I have been there in two years. Arriving in the early evening, I turned down the dirt road leading to the Penobscot River where our rustic cabin sits perched close to its edge on high-ground.

Removing the padlocked from the door, I opened it and crossed the threshold. Once inside, the unique spartan ambiance surrounded me. Within those four walls time seems to be in a different dimension, and the world a different era. My eyes swept around its borders at the unique features. Sandy's decorative touch is there--simple, but elegant expressions. Justin, Josh, Meg, and I have all left our impressions. An eclectic collection of books from a broad array of genres are grouped here and there. Leaned against the edge of the loft is the handmade ladder I made from birch trees using pegs rather than nails to attach the rungs. On unfinished 2x4 studded walls are giant feathers of ospreys and eagles plucked off the river by our family and friends. A 1950's gas stove we cook on, its enamel chipped and yellowed, sits next to the fairly modern gas refrigerator. Journals and a collage of other things meaningful to each family member look back at me. No theme, but it all fits together perfectly.

If there is a more beautiful and calming sound than the trills of a wood thrush, and the soft moan of the Penobscot River as it flows over the contour of the ledges, I have yet to experience it.

Like big blue eyes opening and closing, and then opening for good, the dull, gray, sleepy face of the sky above awakened; remnants of a dissipating low pressure broke up and were whisked away by gentle breezes.

Before it was completely dark, I struck a wooden match, and turned the lever on the gas lanterns hanging from the rafters above the wood stove. First, there is the hiss of gas filling the mantels. Then, the pop when it ignites. Shadows redecorated the interior of the Spartan place in the woods...

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