Truths: A cabin up north

This past weekend we were up at our cabin. We are fortunate enough to both have a cabin up north in WI and to drive 2 ½ hours each way to get there. Five hours every weekend are spent in the car – time that would otherwise be used for maybe more productive things – or even just relaxing. But, it just seems that relaxing is never the same as it is at the cabin – up north.

I thought about that a lot this weekend. Why is folding laundry and making dinner so much more pleasant at the cabin? Doing dishes by hand, because we chose not to have a dishwasher just seems like part of the charm and not a complete waste of time.

Covering and uncovering the boat, hauling coolers down a flight of rock stairs, and spraying round-up in our gravel driveway are all amazingly fun.

What is it about a cabin that takes away the drudgery of every day life? Why is it so much simpler only 2 hours away from home?

Nothing seems to matter when we get there on Friday night. Our troubles seem to fade away the moment we pull into the driveway. We sleep in, we watch the hummingbirds and somehow we even take the time to lay in the hammock and watch the boats go by. When was the last time we laid in a hammock at home? (okay, we don’t have one at home – but even if we did – no one would be laying in it watching anything go by.)

There is a simplicity sitting on the ½ acre of land we own – a belief that its about living life in the present – and that is truly a blessing.

I couldn’t help but wonder what 170 miles does to separate us from this point of view. Why does driving away from home make us grateful for the days we are given. Why does leaving one of our driveways and pulling into another erase our cares?

Is there a way for us to feel like that in our own homes? I mean why can’t we live our whole lives with the philosophy we have on the weekends up north? Why not during the week in our hometowns?

If you are looking for an answer I don’t have one. Sorry.

I guess at home we pay the bills for the cabin (and the rest of our necessities). We attend meetings and some of us work. There is school and activities and neighbors… and I guess overall there are just expectations we find ourselves living up to. None of these things exist at the cabin. (yes, we do have neighbors and friends up there – but they seem to possess only one main quality – friendship without any strings attached. They are there when you need them – and non-existent when you hope to spend the day alone.)

But still… why is it okay for flip flops to pile at the door at the cabin, but one pair of shoes in the hallway at home makes my skin crawl? Why can friends walk into the cabin and see towels strewn across the sofas and I don’t care.

I guess, basically, why is it okay to really live up there and down here it is only okay to pretend to live like Martha Stewart? We are, obviously, capable of both.

One day, Bill and I hope to spend ½ the year up there and I ponder whether it will offer the same relaxation it does now when we are actually living there –paying the bills, belonging to groups and doing the dishes by hand every day. We are already talking that when that day comes, we are going to have to, somehow, create more space.

None the less, I am going to attempt to bring the cabin philosophy home. To take a deep breath and ignore the things that pull us away from the hammock (we don’t have at home.) To smile when I fold the 3rd basket of laundry and to say no to commitments I don’t enjoy.

We are lucky to have been given the opportunity to realize a different way of life – a slower pace and a change in zip code doesn’t have to change that.

Maybe I can even find a way to shut my eyes as the shoes pile up by the door?