My husband dreams of a rustic cabin in the woods. He fantasizes about surrounding drifts of snow, with nothing to do but curl next to the fire with a good book. Sometimes he talks of such a home for retirement.
Over my dead body.
For a couple of days after our 18 inch Christmas blizzard, our extended family did not leave our 3000+ square foot home. My husband and son bravely cleared the driveway so we would be ready to go after a plow came through the road. Basically, ten of us sat around by the proverbial fire. We still had heat and electricity (thanks to buried utilities in our suburb) and plenty of food.
I don’t think we could have survived another day inside.
I think about our pioneer forebears who sat through such storms in a one-bedroom log house. I wonder how often they regretted their decision to head west on those long winter afternoons when snow piled above their waists and the long shadows of early night kept the melting sun away. I wonder how many grabbed an axe or shotgun and sent their families into eternity.
The roads have been cleared, and the sun shines today. I am thankful that I live in an age with plows and indoor plumbing.
The print above is by Lori Putnam and is available in a variety of formats at this website. You can also click on the artwork to get there. I will feel much better about posting this image if you visit her site.
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God bless your husband, but if there is a hell for me, his retirement home is it. I'm not ashamed to be a bit of a princess. It's how I roll.
ReplyDeleteMy idea of camping is a hotel that lacks 24 hour room service. My plan for retirement is to be only 1 flight from an international airport to facilitate travel.
ReplyDeleteAmen, sister. Why do the men always want to move out to a cabin in the woods?
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