First Day in the Mountains

Since I couldn’t post anything while I was at the cabin, I’m gonna share some of notes I wrote down up there.
That, and we’re packing to move. Can you say ‘ugh’?
So painting is taking a backseat for the next 2 weeks.
Another Ugh. As I’ve always said, painting keeps me sane, or at least calms me down.
Have some empathy for BBH too. He already had to bob & weave once today from my emotional pandemonium. (Maybe I should keep a sketch pad handy, at the very least.)
Anyhoo, for the next few days my posts will be about the mountains. I wrote this the first afternoon.
 It’s so quiet. So still.
Only a shrill chirping from a chipmunk nearby breaks the silence.

It’s odd that the week before Labor Day weekend is so quiet here in the mountains. When I was a child and we owned the resort, this week was one of the busiest, save for 4^th of July. But that was when mothers and children spent their entire summer at the cabin, fathers drove up on Friday nights and left on Sunday nights.
Mom & I would look out the huge picture windows overlooking the lake and see familiar cars coming in.
 Here comes Wayne B., in his sporty red Mercedes coupe.
Who’s that driving in? One of us would ask the other. Oh, that’s so-and-so. Every Friday night. It was routine for Mom and I.
Those days are long gone. Today, it’s quiet. Peaceful. Silent.
No longer are we in the huge 3 story ‘cabin’ my dad built for year-round use. That went with the sale of the Chalet back in 1974.
 
We’re in the old horse corral house, a mile away from the lake. “One step above camping,” Mom always describes it.

At first glance you’d think we have all the comforts of home. A kitchen. Bathroom. Electricity, unlike the 150 cabins around the lake that are only accessible by boat or hiking.
And electricity = MICROWAVE!!! That’s luxury, in the mountains.
We drive right up to the door and lug in our food, luggage and water. Lots and lots of water.
Even with a filtered water system, you don’t drink the water out of the tap. Not unless you want to spend your vacation sitting on the pot. And it may last longer than your vacation. Giardia, they call it. It can last for years and years. I’ve never had it, but both Mom & Dad did.
It wasn’t pretty. And that’s the understatement of the century.
Bottled water is a Godsend, nowadays.
It’s incredibly cold today, like Fall is already here. Another odd thing for August. I learned at an early age to have sweatshirts and jackets in the mountains. The morning could be warm and you could have snowfall by the afternoon. Or a strong wind.
So I put on a sweatshirt and a light jacket and Mom & I spent the afternoon on the porch reading. I started a jigsaw puzzle a few weeks ago but it was too cold in the cabin to linger very long. It was warmer outside in the sun. Eventually Mom lit a fire in the woodburning stove to take the chill off in the cabin.
I really should learn to build a fire. Paper, kindling, wood – how hard can it be? But then she says, turn this knob this way to let some air in, then turn it back when the fire gets going. Shoot, it’s just easier to let her do it.
She grabs some gloves, a wood carrier, and goes outside to gather some branches. I felt a little pang of guilt since, after all, she is 82. That was, up until the warmth started spreading from the little stove. And I think she actually enjoys it. She loves coming to the cabin so much and building a fire is just part of it.
Me? I’d just switch on the heater right next to the wood burning stove. But not Mom.
And since the digital TV switch last year, we don’t even get the fuzzy two or three channels we used to get. Which is really ok, even for me, the TV-aholic. I’m enjoying the silence.
No – you can’t get internet either. I guess if I was up here for any length of time I’d try out one of those things that stick in the side of the computer. For now, I want the silence.
For Mom, it’s books to pass the time. She’ll read and read and read. Romance novels. One after the other, after the other.
I can read for a little while, but it makes me drowsy. I’m more apt to do a puzzle or sketch.
This week I’m focusing on writing. I can’t come to the cabin without tons of memories being stirred up. Which makes me think about all kinds of stories I’d like to write.
I deeply regret not sitting down with Dad and getting him to recount his life stories. His was an amazing life. He was an amazing person. Not an easy father, but amazing, just the same.

Over the last 18 months I’ve spent with Mom, she’s told me so many stories I didn’t know. About her youth. About my biological father. About Dad. Running the resort with a staff of nearly 30 college kids in the ‘60’s and early ‘70’s. She’s had an amazing life, too. And is still living it – fully.
Yeah, the silence allows you to really listen to your thoughts. Not just hear that never-ending dialogue. But really listen to yourself, your Self.
Self, this is gonna be a LONG week if I have to listen to you all day, every day.
I’m really wishing I’d figured out how to work the MP3 player.