Cabin in the woods.
I have this little cabin, deep in the woods of the NC Mountains. Where neighbors are far and few between. Where time seems to stand still and everything has been the same since as long as I can remember. A place where people waive as they pass and spend Sundays visiting with neighbor sipping on sweet tea. A place when the days are long, cool and soothing.
It’s small and quiet and at night one of my favorite ways to fall asleep is to the sound of rain falling softly on the trees. My cabin isn’t fancy, but it’s a second home to me and everywhere I look I see my past, as I walk in the foot prints of those who came before me.
Times are different now, but memories of childhood days, peaceful times with family are all around me. Memories of a time when all I really needed was a box of crayons and a coloring book to make me happy.
Growing up, like a lot of people it seems in the 70’s my dad wasn’t around. My granddaddy (my mom’s dad) was the man who filled the role of both a dad and granddad. He was a tiny man, no more than 125 pound ever, but to me he was everything. There was nothing that he wouldn’t do for me and I worshiped the air her breathed.
Now out of all the things, this great man taught me, my lessons here in the woods are the ones I remember most. Whether it was tracking animals, cane poll fishing, playing with crawdads, how the spring could keep you food cold on a picnic and how important it is to keep it clean. Taking care of honey bees, where to find a toothbrush in the woods, which spiders are friendly, which snakes are not, how to tend a garden, where to find the apple orchard if I got hungry. The mountain was my playground, my granddaddy my teacher, and today my mind is swirling with memories. Memories of walks I wish I could take again, questions I would now know to ask and things I wish I could share with my girls…but most of all the love only a granddaddy could give.