My cabin passage. You could almost pretend you're on a ship, if you wanted. The water lulls you to sleep... always rushing... always flowing... always constant with its gentle lullaby. This is the most peaceful place I've ever been.
I'm getting tan and the sun is lightening my hair. I look in the mirror and think this place looks good on me.
Feels good, too. I have a picnic table on the deck and a firepit in the "yard". I use the table all the time - I'm writing from it now, in fact - but I have yet to use the firepit. I'm thinking of making a peach cobbler in my cast iron dutch oven this weekend, though. The grocery store in town, simply marked by a sign that reads: THE GROCERY, has fresh organic peaches. I think I'll try those and let the sugary/cinnamony summer-in-a-pot bubble as I rest in the grass by the river and read.
I have birds in the eaves of the cabin's porch. They're sweet birds - not the loud, squawking ones that jolt you out of your dreams at sun-up. We've all gotten along fine, the wildlife and cabin and Millie and I. I hope it continues. The man at the laundrymat (nearby the grocery; it's called THE LAUNDRY) says they've spotted several black bears this week. A note on my cabin door this afternoon reminded me not to leave food or drinks in the car and immediately dispose of trash, etc. Oh my gosh. I can just see myself - lying on my stomach, tanning my back and staring into the river - and suddenly seeing a bear reflection opposite mine. Scares the jeevies out of me. I'll sleep with one eye open tonight.
So bears aside, I'm in love with my new place. Feeling very Thoreau these days.
Tomorrow we'll do interior pictures, if you're curious. -Brin