The Cabin In February

I took my first overnight trip of the year to the cabin yesterday.

I loaded a small cooler with some pork ribs, a yellow zucchini, a potato, an onion, some carrots and a few Irish beers. Merle was happy to go, as always, and he was quite comfortable sharing the back seat with a guitar case. We left at 1:00 PM on a sunny, cold February day...just twenty-five minutes to my cabin in the woods.

Upon arriving, I had a pang of doubt that my little Geo Metro would crunch through the remaining snow on the little road to the cabin, but we made it. Not much to unload once we got there. Traveling light this time. I fired up the gas furnace and put on my insulated coveralls, and then gathered up some paper and struck out into the woods to the fire ring. Before long I had a blaze going. I thought of the first time Riley and I sat on the humble benches there in the mid winter, all bundled up in our coveralls in a light, gorgeous snowfall coming down as the fire cracked and we smoked cigars and sipped whiskey and visited the day away. I made a promise that today would be for him.

Merle was in dog heaven. He's pretty new to these woods, this place that Dirty Dog loved so much. But, he's got some catching up to do. At the moment, he was all about trying to get me to play chase me. Oh, I obliged a little, but mostly I just wanted to look into that fire, steep in the wood smoke and think about my blessings. Eventually, I went and got a cold Smithwick's and one of the Fuente cigars that Cole had given me for Christmas. I kept on feeding the fire, and passed three or four hours away. Finally, I realized I had better get up to the cabin and get the grill started. I was hungry enough to start supper.

Old friend Tom Martin-Erickson kept me entertained as I cooked. Simply Folk was on Wisconsin Public Radio and I thought back to when I went on their 10th Anniversary tour with them...so many years back. Tom and I traveled the state together in his car...following WPR the convoy from venue to venue. Wow...was I ever young then.

As the ribs were gently smoking away in the Weber, I let Merle out to do his business, and stood at the edge of the deck while he sniffed around below me at ground level. Suddenly, a cottontail rabbit bolted up the hill and away from him with a thunderous explosion...and I thought Merle would jump out of his skin! He jumped about six feet. So much for prey drive. I laughed out loud.

I sat down for dinner with some steaming hot ribs, grilled zucchini, and mixed vegetables cooked in tin foil, hobo dinner style. It was dark outside by then. There's nothing like the taste of your own grilled dinner in your own cabin in the woods. Something special about it, really. It's like the cabin is a magic culinary ingredient that makes everything taste better. Although, I know that if Riley had been there he would have been disappointed that I didn't do up a batch of my cabin potatoes. Next time, Riley.

After dinner, I relaxed on the couch with a small glass of single malt scotch. Eyes getting drowsy now. The radio was droning gently in the background and I marveled at the interior of my cabin in the low light of a few candles and one humble fifteen watt lamp, remembering when we had built this refuge from the dirt up. Just look at it now. Stuff hanging all over the place, memories. Still smells of the red cedar we covered the walls of the great room with. Vicki's brother Ron harvested the trees from the farm she grew up on and sawed the boards for us with his mill. Nine years ago and it still smells good.

I don't let Merle on furniture at home, but this isn't home. I invited him up on the couch and we curled up together, him leaning into me for a good scratching as I stared at the stealthy ceiling fan going round and round and round in circles.

I woke up about twenty minutes later. Better get up now or go to bed. Too early for bed. I relocated to the table and put a little Martin 00-15 in my lap and tuned it to DADGAD tuning. I felt like singing Oh Susannah...been a favorite song of mine since I was a little kid. Been a fan of Stephen Foster since I was a young man. I am reminded that in my song "Where Have All My Heroes Gone?", the line "say a prayer for good Stephen" is a reference to him. Not sure if anyone ever knew that.

I sang a few songs, picked a few more. This is part of what the cabin is about. Alas, no inspiration to write a new one this night. Another hour or two passed, and I got to feeling tired. Looked at the clock. It's 10:30 PM. Holy crap. If I were home I wouldn't be going to bed for two, maybe three more hours. Well, that's the cabin. No TV to stare at like a zombie. There is, however, a very comfortable bed.

I turned in then, setting a timer on my Grundig radio to shut off after 60 minutes, and began listening to a 1957 episode of X Minus One on Old Time Radio Night. C'mon up Merle. It's OK. Good boy...come lay down up here. I put my arm around his neck and shut my eyes. I am long gone before the radio shuts off.

The morning was crisp. There was such a light trace of snow falling that, when you looked toward the east and into the sun, it looked like pixie dust was fluttering down from the heavens. It was such a light flake that nothing was gathering on the ground. I put some water to the burner to make some chamomile tea. Merle bowed down with a good morning stretch, with his front paws outstretched and his butt high in the air.

I picked up the guitar and cleared my throat and started my day with Susannah.