My Cabin: A Distant Harmony

About four hours away from our primary residence is another set of sheets to wash and another lawn to mow at our cabin in Buckeye, W.V. Yes, owning a cabin does involve some additional chores, but it is so much more than that. There is the getting there, the being there, and the knowing you can go there.

The “getting there” is part of the relaxation. I love swaying back and forth around the curves as we climb our way up and down the mountain switchbacks of Virginia and West Virginia. There are old country churches, roadside streams, abundant wildflowers and picturesque farms.

Getting there also includes stops at familiar landmarks and quirky places that make you feel at home even before you make it to the cabin. About an hour from our place is a grocery store where taxidermy adorns the walls above every aisle. It’s like a wildlife museum where you can also get bread and milk. We love to take the children and see how many animals they can identify. Then there’s the funky country diners, where being in a hurry is a waste of energy and the daily special is truly worth a stop on the way to the cabin.

The “being there” is not like a typical vacation. There are no tourist attractions or expensive meals. The remoteness and beauty of the place makes it enough to just be there. The woody, dark green rhododendrons that grow all around our cabin are adorned with pink and white blossoms in summer. Morning mist hangs on the shoulders of the trees, with only the lofty peaks of the Appalachian Mountains rising above.

Being there means being in a climate that is completely different from our primary home. Since it’s in the mountains, the cabin gets significantly more snowfall in the winter. Spring marches up the mountain about six weeks later than at our primary home, and fall marches down the mountain about six weeks earlier, so we have the opportunity to enjoy the two most beautiful seasons at both places.

One of the best parts of being there is being a part of our cabin community. It is always fun to find out who is coming in for the weekend and what everyone’s plans are. Sharing food and enjoying activities with neighbors is something you don’t get to experience on a regular vacation. We have watched each other’s children grown up and shared each other’s joys and sorrows. Neighbors don’t text or call when at the cabin; they stop by. The slower pace encourages us to spend time together and help each other out.

The “knowing you can go there” comes in handy during stressful times at work. The background picture on my work phone is a picture of our cabin, and that picture is a nice reminder of the distant harmony that awaits me at the end of the workweek. When the pace of life, traffic and consumerism of suburbia overwhelms, my mind drifts to the simplicity and serene surroundings of the cabin. Cabin life is the ultimate in escape and reconnection with the things that really matter.