cabin life

Are you a Cabin Mama too?

Whether you grew up in a cabin, adopted one as you got older or relish the lifestyle that comes with cabin living, you can be a Cabin Mama too!

You’ll know you’re a Cabin Mama too if you…

relish living in the woods,
enjoy wood smoke and campfire smells on your clothes,
have a love/hate relationship with squirrels,
love the looks of knotty pine,
use pine cone fire starters,
jealously guard your stacks of firewood,
can cook over an open fire,
love the smell of bacon and hash,
collect old wool army blankets,
have used kerosene lamps,
love wildflower bouquets and wild strawberries,
frequently engage in sing-a-longs,
savor coffee on the deck or porch,
trade plants with neighbors,
host hunting parties and camp reunions,
collect old hats and coats people left behind,
have been known to use an outhouse,
pump water at the well,
enjoy the iris and daffodils Gramma planted,
can skip makeup altogether,
get up early to see deer in the front grove,
are used to living with a wide variety of indoor insects,
love the scent of pine trees.

Yes, we’re all Cabin Mama’s at heart. I wish you many years of loving and living and making memories in your charming abode!

Warmly, Laura

Critter Capers at Edith Wolford’s Cabin

Friends couldn’t believe I would leave my clean, spacious condo in town and move to an old, tiny log cabin way back in the woods.

“One winter out there and you’ll beg to come back,” they said. “Think of the work just to keep it clean. You’ll cut off a toe; you’ve never chopped wood in your life. And what about the bugs and the bears?!?”

They were right about the bugs.

They crawled up out of the drainpipe, cornering me as I scooted to the back of the tub. I grabbed the shampoo and tried to inflict a swift and sudsy death. Desperately, I shoved the soap with one toe and prayed the darned thing wouldn’t hop. Down it went into the depths of dank and rusted drainpipes. But my sense of security was shattered — no longer could I shower with my eyes closed.

It didn’t stop in the bathroom. The cats dropped three-legged colorless crickets on the top of my bed, and I’d watch in horror as they hopped in circles. (The crickets, not the cats.) From then on, any twitch or tickle I felt as I slept became imagined insects crawling over the covers and up to my face.

The drama didn’t stop inside the four walls. Outside, crows would swoop in and invade the pines, watching and waiting for a chance to dive-bomb my cats. Flickers drilled their jackhammer ears into bug infested logs on the sides of my home. The most dastardly among them made straight for the metal leaving me frustrated and furious as I raced for the door and watched from below.

You’d think that leaving the door open to let in the breeze would be a welcoming sight but it ruined relationships. After a triangle-headed alligator lizard walked in and under the feet of a friend, she joined the ranks of those who declined my invitations. They said, “It’s too far of a drive. Find me on Facebook.”

But there were furry little fellows who filled the void. Black squirrels and grey squirrels kept me company all day and into the night. They chewed a hole through the logs and got into the attic. I’d lay in my bed and hear them over my head, munching away on the wood and the wires.

Snakes hid in the walls between drywall and logs, crawling out from behind a south facing window and sunning themselves on the ledge by our door. They slithered from under the heat runs, discouraging my efforts to clean up the mouse droppings. After months at the cabin with no snakes in sight, I’d hoped they’d moved on. Then neighbors discovered a nest in their attic and threw 18 of them, wiggling and twisting, over the fence and into my yard.

It’s years since that fateful day when we moved to the cabin. Each morning I open the door, breathe in piney fresh air and count the bugs, the birds and my blessings. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything!

What Went Thump in the Night

One of the best parts of going to Camp was sleeping in the big bunkbeds Grandpa built into the walls of the cabin. But one night we had more excitement than we bargained for!

There were two big beds downstairs and two upstairs, along with a couple of twin sized. Those beds were so big you could have one heckuva slumber party in them. They also made great trampolines!

One night we girls decided to sleep in the upstairs bunkbed. As the sun started to set, we climbed the stairs into the dusky room lined with knotty pine paneling. The bed was built into the corner of the room and took up two walls. We clambered on in but rather than sleep, we launched into telling our scariest ghost stories.

Mom, Dad and the boys were trying to sleep downstairs. We must have been making a lot of noise, because Mom yelled up to us. “You girls stop talking or I’m going to have to send your Father up there!”

So we quieted down, laying still and silent for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Then we heard the noise!

Scratching and thumping, it would go on for a few seconds, then it would stop. Did it come from the closet or inside the walls?

“Did you hear that?”

“Uh yeah. Did you do it?”

“Um, no!”

We weren’t sure WHERE it was coming from, but we didn’t like it one bit!

We started yelling, “Daddy, there’s something up here!” Dad came bounding up the stairs. He shined a flashlight all around the room trying to see where the sound was coming from.

By then we were screaming, “The picture! The picture! It’s over there!”

We pointed towards the picture on the far wall. It was jumping around. It lifted and fell like it had a life of its own. And it DID!

By now the boys had run up the stairs to see what was going on. Still more screaming from us girls but the boys were louder. “Get it Dad! Get it!”

Dad grabbed a broom and lifted a corner of the picture frame up and away from the wall. Down crashed the picture…

…and out flew a bat!

It fluttered back and forth around the room, darting here and there, ducking and out-maneuvering Dad’s broom. Now ALL of us were screaming, jumping up and down and flailing our arms to fight off the softball-sized creature. Dad tried to hit it, but he kept missing. That bat was quick!

Finally Dad opened the door which led to the roof, hoping the bat would find its way out. After a few more laps around the room and a few more swats with the broom, the bat flew out into the night.

“We’re so glad you got rid of that thing!” said a sister.

“We should have kept it, Dad!” said a brother.

Once the glass from the broken picture was swept up, back to bed we went. It took us a long time to settle down after that. We were scared at first, but now we were giggling.

Mom didn’t think it was so funny. “Settle down girls,” she yelled up at us. Then Dad added one of his famous phrases, “You kids go to sleep now. Tomorrow’s another day!”