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I live in a Cabin. Or Maybe It's a Cottage
And if you've ever wondered why anyone would do that, stick around.
At some point a while ago, I promised I would write about cabin life. I’ve been putting it off, but yesterday someone in a forum asked me why I didn’t write more about living in the Upper Peninsula. It’s pretty unique and, as far as he knew, no one else on Substack was doing it. So it got me thinking. Again. It is pretty unique, and there is plenty to talk about.
I should do this. Again.
Long, long ago I started a blog called ‘Cabin and Camp’ and I had a lot of fun with it. I don’t remember now why I stopped writing it. I think the mechanics of it got to be too much. I just didn’t try hard enough.
Still, it was a success of sorts, and I loved everything about it except, as I said, the mechanics of putting it together. I should tell you that Ree Drummond (Pioneer Woman) was just starting hers around the same time and we were kind of blog buddies for a while. But I chickened out and she moved on.
Story of my life.
But there are some parts of that blog that I’ll be resurrecting here, under the new section, Up North Life. I’ll be writing new pieces, and I’ve already moved all of the pieces I’ve written that might fit under that banner.
I do live in the north woods in a cabin or cottage or whatever someone calls this little place on the water surrounded with nothing but trees, where I cohabit with wildlife, including the occasional bear using my yard as a fine potty. (It’s no longer their kitchen, since we got wise and stopped putting out compost or suet or birdseed while they’re at their hungriest in the spring.)
I love it here, but I get it that not everybody would. It’s remote, it’s inconvenient, it’s cold and dark in winter (I should confess I’m not there right now. It’s December. I’m that wimpy Snowbird who doesn’t find winter all that exhilarating), and it’s on an island dependent on a car ferry to get you to what you might call ‘civilization’. Like a MacDonald’s or a Kohl’s or a Tractor Supply. They’re all on the mainland, more than an hour away once you hit land. It’s the kind of adventure we used to find charming while others (meaning certain of our family) have always found the inconvenience irritating as hell.
Since Ed died in March and until I left for the winter about a month ago, I’ve been living there alone. It’s been an adventure, to say the least, but not nearly as hard as I thought it would be. As I’ve written before, I couldn’t have done it without the support of so many friends and neighbors. They’ve been amazing. They’re the reason I’ll be able to stay for a while, but the reality is, my days on that remote island in that quirky cottage are numbered. It’s getting old and so am I. It’s time to turn it over to a younger family who will love it as I do but will have the guts and the means to bring it back to its original loveliness.
They’re already out there, waiting. Now it’s up to me. But first I want to savor what I’ve had and still have. I want to write about my life there before it’s behind me. That’s what I’ll be doing in this section. If you have any questions about how it all works or why anyone in their right mind would want to do it, as always, the comments are open.
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