Cabin Talk

It is a quiet and peaceful place -

and a fitting place for the remains

of this greatest of sea tragedies to rest.

-Robert D. Ballard

Come on in. The door's open.


This is a humble cabin. Rustic, I believe is the term nowadays. Don't expect any decorating inspiration here. I purposefully came with little decor; I didn't wish to fuss with it and wanted, if the urge struck me, to be able to leave it all behind without a second thought. The cabin affords me a bed, a night table, a stuffed chair, a refrigerator, a dining table-turned-desk, a dozen hooks for clothes, a shelf, and a vanity.



That said, I always have flowers and books. Always. I once read that Michael Jackson spends over $1,000 a week on flowers for his home. I wouldn't spend that kind of money if I had it, but I would kill myself trying to grow that many flowers if I had a castle on a ranch. Here, though, I just have one skinny arrangement in a bud vase. Nothing spectacular, but cheerful nonetheless.


Most days Millie and I spend the late afternoons getting our feet wet in the river and collecting firewood and picking wildflowers. It's like a movie, almost. Very, very soothing. Although firewood is available at the lodge for free, so far I've collected enough driftwood to get us by. That will likely change tomorrow, however. It's getting down to 35 F. Thursday night and my cabin isn't heated.


It does, however, have sweet linens. I brought them from Freeman House.

On the nightstand, behind the books, you may have noticed the glass bowl. Every day when Millie and I go down to the river, I've carried a stone back in my pocket. Each is worn smooth and was ice cold when I fished it out of the riverbed. One of them has dull flecks of something in it. I tell myself it's gold, just for fun. (They did mine gold out of these mountains, after all.) Anyway, each day I plunk a stone down into the bowl as a sort of count your blessings exercise. I want to do something with them when I get home to remind me of just how blessed I am....

... "kitchen" not withstanding.

(By the way, what do you think of the yellow I've gone with? I'm not a sunshine person, per se, but I think it fits here. I'm trying to hurry and finish the quilt and then I'm going to braid a giant, fluffy rug. Then I'll show you more.)

I haven't done much cooking here. Sunday I made a big (crock) pot of Colorado Chicken Chili. The recipe - kid you not - came from Cary Grant's wife, Barbara Hutton. Over the weekend I met a friend of hers, seated at a table eating lunch with Ralph Lauren. (He owns a big ranch outside Telluride.) The recipe came up in conversation and was willingly shared. It differs in every way from Texas chili, the chili I grew up on, but it's lovely.

So. That's all the pictures for now. A storm is blowing in and it's cold and dark and pictures weren't turning out as well as I'd like. We'll pick up here again soon. Got to go gather more wood and shut the windows before it rains. Enjoy your evening. -Brin

Oh. Yeah. I keep getting questions about why I'm here. I came here to lift my eyes unto the hills, where my Help comes from. I steadfastly believe He will keep my going out and my coming in from this time forth and forevermore.)