Cabin Fever

Just for the record--this is not our cabin, though to hear our daughter tell it as a child, it might as well be.  On the wall of the Colorado manse is a routed sign with one of her trademark whines: Welcome to Crummy Old Colorado.  Every year we get to head to our little place on Little Cone, for a couple of weeks.  It's never enough, but it's always refreshing.  And now that she is grown up, the girl-

child agrees.

Spring can be tough.  There's often enough snow left at 10,000 feet to be troublesome and it's no longer pristine and pretty.  The runoff can create prodigious mud.  In the old days, before the road was so well packed, chains front and back could be required to negotiate the way up the mountainside.  These days, mostly just a good slathering reesults, but enough to make one think twice about hiking when returning to a cabin with no way to wash muddy clothes except in the tub.

Summer is wonderful: long, lazy days, never too hot (at least by comparison), plenty of hiking and, if inclined, lots to do in town; lightning storms converging over the Wilsons.

Fall is better: cool weather, the mountainsides covered in color;  between seasons, so that the town is not over-filled with tourists; and the occasional light dusting of snow to remind you that the season will change again, soon..

But the best is winter, when we can get it.  Winter is a challenge.  Being 8+ miles form the main road means that the way to the cabin is not always plowed.  We've had to snowshoe in the last mile on occasion; a couple of years ago in February we were first snowed out --hiking in from the driveway without benefit of snowshoes in knee-deep snow--and then snowed in.  That time was particularly interesting because we were hosting guests--5 of them--who were valiant and made the trek and had a great time.

The cabin in the snow is magical.  Apart from Point Reyes, California, I've never been to a place more silent.  In winter, all the sounds of life are absent and the quiet emerges almost like a being of its own.  It's worth the risk of weather to get there.

A cabin in the woods.  What better place for a writer to be?