Glendalough

Well, now, Special Events will prevent me from writing my 'regular' Wednesday evening post! On March 21 I hosted a parent meeting at my school, and last week--spring break--I was at my cabin, without internet service.

What is it that I love about being at my cabin?

It's really hard to say, although without fail, every time I drive along the road that leads to the cabin, I can feel my troubles slide off my shoulders and away, and a joyful buoyancy lifts my heart. I love waking up without an alarm clock, and sneaking into the hot tub 'first thing,' before eating breakfast or having to put on my Nice Face to talk to anybody. I love cooking at the cabin, and reading while eating. I love walks by the lake, and watching the changes through the seasons. I love taking a step back from the everyday-ness of my life, and seeing things from a fresh perspective; collecting insights from a slightly altered vantage point.

I love rare surprise wildlife visits. Once during a magical early winter, early evening snowfall, my husband and I watched a coyote trot into our yard, and pick up and make off with a semi-deflated soccer ball that the neighbor's kids had left out. Another time, I was sitting in the hot tub in the morning, and Ken tapped gently on the window glass to draw my attention to two cow moose who walked right through our yard; then returned at a right smart pace when the local dogs began to bark. Sightings of swans, pelicans, and blue herons on the lake are rare treats. (Other people have told me that birds like these are on the lake 'all the time,' but to me, they seem exotic and magical.) Last week I was delighted to see and hear that the gulls, crows and Canada geese had returned for the season. The geese, especially, were kicking up a fuss everywhere I went, and toward the end of the week I noticed that they had all paired up into cute couples. Resting contentedly on the ice; taking off together in flight; waddling pigeon-toed along the shore, these couples kept their tandem formation at all times.

My former husband and I bought this little old cabin (built in 1955, same as me!) in late spring 1992, when our kids were 13, 10, 8 and 6 years old. I was off work, recovering from hip surgery. We would load up the car on a Thursday evening, have supper at a restaurant, and spend the night at the cabin. He would drive the three girls to school early on the Friday morning, leaving me to spend the day with our youngest, Jonathan. (Jonathan was in kindergarten that year, but maybe kindergarten ended a few weeks before grade school did.) I would have supper ready for the girls and their dad, and we would enjoy the water and the sunshine for the weekend, and return to town Sunday night.

I inherited the cabin when our marriage ended in 1995. It felt so strange when my ex-husband came to pick up our children, and take them to spend weekends at his house, but I had the cabin as my refuge. The kids and I continued to use it during the summer, until one by one, they became busy with summer jobs, or more interested in spending time with their friends than in being out at the lake with their mom. Eventually, it was just Jonathan and me out there again, and finally, just me (or sometimes me and a friend).

But I was hatching plans for that cabin--big plans, and in 2005, I had it renovated. Ken and I designed a new, slightly expanded, and much more open floor plan. A pool buddy of his came and camped on the site in April of that year, and tore down everything but the bathroom and the floor! He disposed of it by cutting it into chunks and burning it for heat, and even used the fire for cooking. I went on a trip to Ireland in May of that year (another story!) and that's where the name Glendalough came from. By the end of June it had in-floor heating, full insulation, an outdoor hot tub, and was ready to move into. My heart's desire was fulfilled when my four children, along with their four partners, came to celebrate Christmas of 2005 with Ken and me at Glendalough!

What a wonderful treat it is to know that I can drive there in an hour, when I need a dose of solitude, or of nature, or some uninterrupted time to spend on a pet project. I try to spend alternating weekends out there through the winter, and periods of a week or two at a stretch in the summer. I am so thankful for my beloved Glendalough.