Cabin Living

This was my driveway last winter, turning back into the woods.

I lived in the Bear's Den cabin.

No electric.  

No running water.

Only an outhouse.

And I loved it.

Rustic.

But tonight...as I sit 40 miles north,

 in my comfy heated domain (my Mother's home), 

I am once again homesick.

The snow has officially arrived.  

Sure, it snowed earlier this fall. 

But tonight has the feel of a storm.

Snow is falling.

Winds are slamming the sliding glass doors. 

Although oddly, I feel no change in my circumstances.  

I have bare feet.  No cold here.

If I were back at the cabin, 

on my land, 

I would feel connected to the storm.  

A part of it.

Here, I am only a spectator.  

And that saddens me.  

But tomorrow I will visit, Lord willing.  

And once again be a participant.  

With socks on...and warm boots.

Until tomorrow, Lord willing.  Hope to see you here.

Sherry

1st Year of Berean Bush Living

Welcome Friends.  I wonder what your life is like…as spring emerges.

I was at an outdoor Auction this past weekend (up north, not far from the Mackinac Bridge) when I felt like I had emerged from a long winter.  Call me “Ursa” (Latin word for Bear).  I don’t travel in the winter, so my outings are few and far between over the long winter months, with only local travel.  Even so, the winter went by fast... until a week ago. 

Excited to spend time with my beloved visiting son and his sweet sweet girlfriend last week, I “poo poo’ed” the warnings of a storm.  Everyone was talking about it, but I didn’t hear it.  It even escalated to Severe warnings on my weather radio, but I showed casual interest…as my calendar showed mid-April.  J   But late Friday night when I stoked my woodstove and laid my head down to peer at the moon out my small “south” window, I drifted off to sleep with warm thoughts of a day well spent with my loved ones.  Then…it happened.  I woke to a “rush of heavy snow” sliding crashing off the metal roof to the ground.  Oh my…I haven’t heard anything quite like that all winter.  I reached over to stoke the stove, and slipped back down deep into my sleeping bag.  Then it happened again.  Woosh!  THUMP.

All night long it continued…Woosh…THUMP, and again….Woosh, THUMP.  Upon awakening Saturday morning, I thought “this can’t be good”.  The night before, I had pulled my truck deep into the woods, not heeding the warnings of the impending storm.  The truck was now “buried” – going nowhere, no time soon.  In the next 24-36 hours we would have 22” of snow.  (Actually, I believe that is a conservative figure.)  Short story is…I couldn’t get out of the woods, with the truck, OR on foot.  I tried…but the snow was SO DEEP I couldn’t walk in it without snow shoes.  It didn’t help that the snow had the consistency of sugar/sand.  This had landed on previous snow, and so far this month alone we have had 39”.  (A local record was said to be broken…)  I headed back to the cabin, struggling through the snow, and settled in.  The classical story of the boy with his grandfather and the goat...buried in their cabin…came to mind.  "Buried in the Snow" by Franz Hoffmann.

It was later in the day that Russ showed up to “rescue me”.  Good thing…as I was low on H20 and “substantial” food.  (I usually head up mid-day to tend to the dogs and when I didn’t that day, he knew there was a problem.)  We don’t use phones for such things.  Wouldn’t work anyway, since only one of us has one.  But I’m only ½ mile away… {And yes...I could have melted snow...) 

  

On the way out to the main lane, which was also sketchy, I stepped off the narrow path and went down nearly to my hip on one leg.  Unless a friend, or tree, {or a thick-coated-eager-to-please canine} is near to grab hold of, it’s difficult to get free as the snow holds you firm.  Like quicksand.  {Sidebar:  I had just watched Pilgrim’s Progress several days prior, and know full well the dangers of straying from “the narrow path”.  During the movie, I kept thinking…Christian…don’t get off the path again!!  Isn’t that how life is…we can see it so clearly when it’s someone else who is “in trouble”…or making wrong choices.}

Well, the next five days were rough.  I won’t bore you with the details, but after five days, an angel was finally dispatched to come and plow me out, at what I felt was minimal cost.  {When one is desperate, you are willing to pay dearly.}  This was in addition to the usual front-end loader driver who had tried on Sunday night, but couldn’t get in the woods due to too much snow.  My truck finally got out, and I felt such a relief.  It still isn’t easy getting around, a week later.  But having the wind stop blowing, and the sun shining brightly…sure makes trudging through a wintery slop in my knee-high MUCK boots bearable.

But the best thing of all was the “wake up call” I received in this storm.  Some of the plans I had for next year, including moving the sled dogs deep in the woods, are scratched.  Bottom line, I need them near the water source.  I truly would have had an impossible time getting water for that many critters, plus me. 

And I know one thing…I’m getting a new-fangled pair of snowshoes.  I do treasure the old ones, but need something lightweight to skitter over the snow.  {Catching your tips and falling in snowshoes is no picnic either…}

So in a week’s time, the weather went from deadly to drop-dead gorgeous.  At the Auction, exactly one week later, the sun glistened off the remaining snow on the auctioned-off property.  Temps climbed into the 50’s.  You saw sheer enjoyment in all you came in contact with – people came out in droves to enjoy the sounds of the auction rings and announcers and visit with their neighbors.  Spring is near!   I even ended up with a sunburn! My Amish friends did too…as they were working the food booth at the Auction.  (YUM…I headed home with a pan of cinnamon rolls, a groaningly delicious loaf of bread, and chocolate-ty whoopee pies…YUM indeed.)  I also loaded up a couple of newly constructed Bluebird houses, sold by the bright-eyed smiling Amish boys at the Auction.  Perfect timing, as I plan to set up a Bluebird trail on my “ten”.  (Days before the big storm I saw a bright blue male BB checking out an old BB house, near the Wee.) 

In addition, it was so good to be up in my “old stomping grounds” and view Little Traverse Bay (Lake Michigan) half open, half covered with ice.  Beautiful country…northern lower Michigan.

As I headed south at the end of a long day of auction and errands (oil change for my truck/critter feed at Tractor Supply, etc.) I felt renewed.  I had survived the winter.  I was looking forward to getting back to my little cabin in the woods. 

In addition, I am looking forward to the summer and preparation for another winter (firewood, etc.).  Twelve cord served me well this year.  This morning, “Woody”, my Pileated Woodpecker was thrilled to find 2 new suet cakes right outside my window in the cake feeder.  He is such a fixture – visits daily.  One of my many “day brighteners”.

This morning I enjoyed my morning cabin coffee (with water heated with a foldable Sterno Camp stove) while watching the riotous antics at my bird feeder.  Besides Woody, I have goldfinches, a bevy of other woodpeckers, 3 black squirrels, several red squirrels, emerging chipmunks, chickadees (of course) and more.  I’ve also had a tall red fox visit several times, one time almost crossing paths with me!  Who can blame him for wanting to check out the flurry of activity?  Of course there are more critters, such as the raccoon that raided my birdfeeder one moonlit evening.  And I look forward to the return of the deer, (and yes, even porkies and skunks…) 

How about you?  Did you survive the winter?  I hope so…J

Until next time…Lord willing,

Sherry

P.S.  If you are wondering why I moved out to my little cabin on April 23, 2017, a year ago, here’s the beginning of the story back in April of 2015...  The SEEKER.   

The rest of the story, my story… is forthcoming.  Woosh…THUMP. 

Simply Sled Dogs

This past week, with August upon us, I shuffled around some dog equipment to get ready for Fall Training.  While hauling an armload of old harnesses to wash up to sell, I hoped none of the remaining six dogs would notice as I tip-toed past the dog yard.  Anyone who has had a sled dog, or a dog for that matter, knows how just a “jingle” of a leash will send a dog into a frenzy of excitement.  It’s that way with sled dogs.  Even the sight of a harness will stir them into action. 

I, too, get excited this time of year, especially when a full moon approaches.  (Hello to my full-moon musher friend Shannon…J) 

It is nearly 9 years ago that Iditarod/Yukon Quest “Mega” Champion Lance Mackey (from the incredible Mackey family of mushers) was here for a full-moon weekend, giving his testimony about all things dog.  His presence still lingers, and I hope someday it would be possible for him to return.  Lord willing.  {Lance is truly one of a kind, as is his record in both the Iditarod and Yukon Quest.}

Once I sorted through the maze of harnesses, I ended up with working harnesses for four.  (Two of our dogs are going on 16 years of age - their pulling days past.)  I took the semi-clean harnesses out back to my cabin in the woods and hung them by the front door, under the protection of the porch.  There…  My cabin was complete.  My hickory rocking chair sat in the opposite corner, across from the harnesses that brought plenty of memories.  Inside the cabin is the bunk I now sleep on - the same bunk Lance Mackey slept on when he visited for 3 nights.  Some nights I lay in the darkness and hear my sled dog Skunk let out a sigh of contentment from her comfy dog bed near the front door.  I wonder if her dreams are like my dreams…of the incredible life of sled dogs and folks like Lance Mackey, who fill our hearts with an amazement and awe of a lifestyle like no other.  Once you have experienced it, it’s hard to let go…but you still have the memories.

Memories like this…

Waking at 5, I beat the rooster’s demands.  I attempt to shake the hold of a good night’s sleep, as I scheme a plan to stay warm.  After deciding there is little I can do from my vantage point, I leave the comfort of warm flannel sheets and heavy comforters.  Scooting off the end of the bed, I take one step to begin my early morning decent down the sturdy cabin ladder.  Knowing each rung results in a five degree temperature dip, I grit my teeth and make a hasty departure from the loft. 

Once in the heart of our small cabin, I scramble to throw on my morning clothes.  I hold each article of clothing next to the open door of the wood stove, hoping the smoldering embers will provide some heat to my chilly wardrobe.  Again, I grit my teeth as I decide this process is getting me nowhere and I should just get dressed, sans fanfare.  Layer, layer, layer, cotton kills, cotton kills, cotton kills runs through my head as I hastily dress for the cold winter morning. 

After fidgeting with the woodstove, I’ve managed to create a good fire.  Two fat and aged lab-mix dogs are happy with the results as they settle closer to the woodstove and uncurl.  Not being a coffee drinker, I have to rely on rote skills to get me started in my sequence of chores.  Breakfast will wait.  The rule in this house is…animals eat first.  I grab my headlamp from the hook by the cabin door, fit it over my fur hat and begin to venture out into the dark snowy morning. 

I stop to fill two five-gallon water buckets at the spigot on the cabin porch.  It’s a relief to hear water surge up through the pipe.  My city-turned-country 15 year-old cat greets me by raising her head from her porch bed. 

Once outside, I’m amazed at the snow received the night before.  My warm bunny boots are silent, but clumsy, walking on the fresh powder.  The only sound is the small plastic red sled, floating behind me in a serpentine fashion as I glide over the wind-sculptured snow, carrying two buckets of sloshing water.  The quiet is interrupted by the first howl of greeting as I exit the woods and approach the dog yard in the clearing. 

The dogs knew I was coming, before I even put my foot on the last rung of the cabin ladder.  Astro, our blue-eyed Alaskan “gate keeper” can peer the 100’ from his sentry by the dog yard gate.  He sees through the naked deciduous trees and into our main cabin window.  Once he sees light and movement in the cabin, he announces my arrival to the others.  {We put Astro by the front gate so he could overcome his shyness.  It worked.} 

Now the dogs can hardly contain their exuberance as I fight with snow to gain entry into the front gate, knowing the snow would be too deep at the feed room door.  Once inside, I can scan the 30 dogs in the dog yard, and make a light beam contact with each pair of eyes.  10, 20, 29…where’s the 30^th dog?  Oh yes…one pair of eyes fail to beam back.  Our current blind dog, Buddy Jr.  However I can still see his excitement of being “shined upon” nonetheless.  (We have 14 more dogs…they are up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, running the trails, with Russ riding the runners - training for possible future races.)

TO BE CONTINUED: 

Side Bar:  So many things have changed.  The two “cabin dogs” (Satch and Hootch) have long sinced passed.  Satch at 18 and Hootch nearly that.

The cabin kitty also. 

And on a brighter note…I now drink coffee – started late in life.  Wish I had started sooner….  I wish a lot of things.  But the memories linger...

Until next time, should the Lord tarry -

Sherry

 

Daylight in the Swamp

All through my childhood, I heard those words – Daylight in the swamp...  They were spoken to me gently - early in the morning, by my father, as he knocked softly on my closed bedroom door.  Upon hearing his “wake-up call”, I would rise to the adventure that would begin well before the sun made its appearance.  

Many times, it was to alert me that the VW station wagon and boat trailer would be leaving soon, heading to the Bay to troll for steelies – steelhead trout.  Sometimes it was just to rouse me for school.  But it didn’t matter, as it was a treasured moment just the same.  

Oh how I miss those days. 

This morning as I woke in my little cabin, I could hear the percolator coffee pot starting its brew.  Hubby Russ is a creature of habit, never deviating from his schedule in the morning, so I knew in a moment, he would be turning down the burner under the coffee pot, and heading outside to wait for it to perk and settle.  As I rose, I thought of my Dad and his way of waking me.  I had to chuckle, as our cabin feels like “daylight in the swamp” – it takes a lot for the light to shine in – as we are in the woods. 

I suppose I’ve been thinking a lot about life growing up on Little Traverse Bay {Lake Michigan} lately.  At the end of the month, I will be starting a new adventure.  Each week, I will be spending the lion’s share of the week days with my Mom, at her beautiful home.  I will come home on weekends, and then head back "up north" each Monday.  This is for the snow-less months.  

Needless to say, this is a huge step for me.  One that I don’t take lightly.  I will miss my mornings with the sled dogs, doling out treats, brushing the Siberians, and doing all the maintenance a dog yard requires.  

I will also miss our daily walks in the woods, my connection to our animals and wildlife.  

I will miss Russ, who will have a quiet existence without me there, to provide meals, laughter and meaningful conversation.  However, that being said, Russ encouraged me to go.  Upon praying on the decision, I felt called to go.  So I will be obedient and do so. 

 Hebrews 5:9 {Regarding Christ}  “And having been perfected, He became the author of eternal salvation to all who obey Him. …”

And so I head north...to my hometown.

It will be an adjustment, to go from a cabin with no running water, and an outhouse, to my Mom’s beautiful home.  I will be living like “royalty” in many ways.  I will have my own private area, and the door leading outside spills out into a wooded area that connects to Bear River – complete with walking trails.  When I was there on Mother’s Day, presenting this idea, a red cardinal kept appearing on the porch railing, and a doe and last year’s fawn stepped out and were a few feet from the door.  {I have always dreaded leaving my 40 acres of wildlife, but it appears I will see more, in this setting!}  Plus, I grew up living one block from her current home, so this is where I spent my childhood playing, dreaming, and growing up.  {This past May would have been my dear Dad’s 86^th birthday – he passed quickly (diagnosed in late July, and died early September) with brain cancer at the age of 60 – he was an amazing man, incredible father, and my best friend.}

This new change will start the end of this month, Lord willing.  It is requiring some changes in structure, but I’m optimistic that it will work out as God’s will.

More on that later…

Until next time, Lord willing,

Sherry

P.S.  Yes, I’m still battling, as I have been for the last two years, the issue of remarriage.  {See “The Seeker” Blog for the entire story.}  I struggle with marriage being a covenant with God, breakable only by death.  Hence, there is no room for a 2nd marriage, if your first spouse is still alive.  And so it goes.  I am praying for clarity to come soon, but I know the Lord will reveal His truth to me when I am ready.  And only then.

P.S.S.  And yes...I will write about May's Amish Auction soon...  I am heading to see my Amish friends this week.  

Nine-Step Cabin

I won’t kid you.  This past week was rough.  Lots of snow, and lots of cold.  Bitter cold.  It’s not like I didn’t expect it this winter.  Every winter we hit a wall, and go into what we call “survival mode”.  But this year it hit early.  And keeps hitting.  These –25 mornings are getting to be all too common.  

Living the way we do, we have to thank the Lord for the little things:  a roof over your head (no leaks), a working woodstove, wood to put in that woodstove, running water, electricity that rarely goes out, 3 freezers (for both us and the sled dogs) teeming with good meat and vegetables, and a spouse that is easy to live with/communicates and entertains.  Come to think of it, those are big things.  And we should all take a moment to thank the Lord for all those provisions.  For they are His, not ours…  He could take them away in an instant.  Each and every one of them. 

This past week was cold.  There were some days I didn’t venture out – it was enough just watching my hubby, Russ, bundled up from head to toe, tending to the animals with feed, bedding, and water while snow blew about in blizzard form.  Although our small cabin is only 9 steps from end to end (15 x 20), on those cold days I don my big moon-boot type arctic {rated –100} boots and tend to stay within 3 feet of the woodstove.  When a venture a step or two away, it is when I’m cooking or baking, {which is daily for both}.  Or sleeping.  Or traveling out back to the outhouse.  It’s not so bad.  I always have good books at my disposal.  My Bible stays within reach now.  It wasn’t always that way, but each day the desire to know His word increases tenfold. 

I find such joy in the birds who visit their filled feeders.  We have several types of woodpeckers now.  Pileated Woody has made an appearance several times – each time leaving us in awe.  He’s so calm, not even seeming to mind our gawking and talking in whispers as we get as close to him as possible. 

God has done a lot in the last year with us.  We have stripped down more and more, leaving our life exposed for His purpose.  Apostle Paul stated:  “Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christ” (Phil. 3:8).  When we take up the Cross and follow Jesus, we better be prepared to lose it all.  As for me, I am honored to live a life that is totally in God’s plan and economy.  If someone had told me 20 years ago that I could live on a small amount of money (which falls into today’s poverty levels) arriving only once monthly, I would have never believed it.  I always had a steady paycheck (or two) and was reckless with my stewardship.  Now, I look forward to seeing God’s blessings.  He has never, ever, EVER, let us down.  We have so much in abundance.  Less is more, folks.  Pray that your heart accepts this concept, for “Whoever of you does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple”, says the Lord (Luke 14:33). 

Today (Saturday) was a good one.  I visited my local Library to check in with folks on the Internet.  Then I chatted with the Librarian before heading out to the local Laundromat/Resale spot.  The folks who work the resale always have an abundance of food in their little kitchen, with smells wafting through the resale.  Today they were eating a homemade savory Beef Stew.  The aroma was tantalizing, and I was offered a bowl.  I smiled and declined, thinking to myself, only in a small town.  Later, while my clothes were drying, I joined in a conversation with two Godly men, one who had a Bible in hand, and we worshiped the Lord in front of the tumbling dryer for nearly an hour.  Again, only in a small town…

Upon coming home, I quickly changed from my “town skirt” into my thick choring skirt, made by my Amish friend.  After doing chores in the dog yard, I removed one of the residents, Skunk-dog, and headed down our long drive with Zip in tow, running loose, as they do.  Skunk made the mistake of sailing over a 5’ snow bank and getting bogged down with no base in sight.  Just 100” of fluff.  She struggled several times to find an alternative route out of the edge of the woods.  It was a comical sight, and surprised her, and me.  Zip was smart and stayed on the flats. 

Sunday we visited our farm friend, Ellen, and checked out her very pregnant sow.  What a beauty.  I’m giddy in awaiting the winter litter.  We aren’t wintering pigs, so I’m excited for spring, to add new little ones for the summer/fall months. 

We have a new excitement.  Our large smoky black dog with brown feet “Doc” is working on being a farm dog.  {He’s been a sled dog for us the last year, having been raised by our friend Ellen the first half of his 3 years.}  He’s doing stellar so far.  Such a beautiful wolfy looking dog, with a good head.  As he stands regally atop the snowbank outside our cabin, he reminds me of me…always looking.  Ever aware.  He’s watching for Russ moving about our 40 acres.  Me?  I’m watching for His return.  It feels imminent.  Does it to you?

Until next time, Lord willing, dear friend.  Rejoice!  The King is on His way~!

Sherry

P.S.  Last night our friend Ellen's piglets were born - 13 in all!