owlyAnd so it is the end of summer. We closed the moomincabin on Labor Day weekend. A little bit early but no one else indicated that they wanted to use it and we weren’t sure we could manage to get back up there between Labor Day and the Drop-Dead weekend, which is about the second weekend in October. When Mother Nature says something like, “If you do not button that place up, I am gonna hit you with a blizzard”. It is the Yooperland. Sh*t happens. If we lived 15 minutes away (like my parents did) or even a couple hours away, we could hang loose and take a quick drive up to close it if the weather looked threatening. Five hour drive and full-time careers? Not so much. Sorry.

Closing the cabin is not a big deal. After my parents retired, they stayed at the cabin hanging around with Radical Betty, etc., until sometime in October. Their signal to move back to town was when they encountered a wee bit of snow either on the ground or in the air. Okay, let’s go. They would drain the water, turn off the lucky-shucky, put the storm windows on and go. It takes a couple hours to close that place up.

This year, on our chosen closing weekend, we hosted some of our Sherman friends over at the Old Cabin, which is the log cabin my grandparents built in 1924. Yes, it is going on 100 years old. I was born when it was 30. And that makes me… Okay…

I use the term “host” lightly because my childhood friend Dan did all of the heavy lifting for hosting his family members on our beach. I provided a sewing needle and thread to his lovely cousin Lee, who I hadn’t even met before. If you knew The Commander, you know that she left sewing supplies behind and that her sometimes wayward daughter (who does know how to sew) *kept* a nice little container of sewing supplies at the moomincabin for just such an occasion. Note to self, what I had worked but we need a wider variety of hand-sewing needle sizes up there. It’s okay to have more than enough needles. Take some up.)

None of the usual Old Cabin inhabitants were up there when the Shermans were there but they graciously lent their cabin to our guests and npJane and I collaborated on schlepping the aftermath, laundry and recycling, mainly. I think npJane and I even “argued” a bit (with laughter dominating the “argument”) about who would do the laundry. I won. I know that most of it came from the moomincabin and what little came from the Old Cabin will be easily sorted out. (Sssh. Don’t let anyone know that there might be a few bits and pieces of Old Cabin laundry here at my house. You guys will get it back.)

I also sorted out a bunch of recycling, retrieving the egg cartons that I can drop off at work and a few returnables. I am programmed to do this kind of stuff and I usually smell like beer after a fun recycling session like today’s 🐸.

Good night,
Garbage Woman

2 Responses to “Owly”

  1. Margaret Says:

    You have so much wonderful history and traditions that go along with that cabin. There is nothing like it in my life. My grandparents’ houses east of the mountains but one has been sold and the other torn down.

  2. Pooh Says:

    I’d like to more about that owl, wide-eyed at all the glitz around it.