giant moths and troublesome wells

tew, baby b, sam the dog and i departed for the cabin a little before 11 on saturday.  before leaving town we made sure to stop at starbucks and the liquor store.  took our time driving to buckhannon, meandering on route 20 from nutter fort on.  beautiful drive- interesting old houses and bright green farms.  all of the hay has been put up and there are sunflowers everywhere.

our little troupe spent some time in buckhannon before heading into the woods.  a tasty lunch at cj maggies and a foray into one of the, uh, trashiest walmarts anywhere.  all provisions secured, we loaded up the family truckster and headed into the tree tunnel, as tew calls it, with baby b screaming "go go go!" all the way.

after tidying and putting things away we put dog and child in life preservers and floated for a while in the cool river.  tew showed off her stellar fire making skills, keeping us toasty for the rest of the evening.  we talked and talked and talked and drank and drank and drank and laughed and laughed and laughed.  you'd have thought we were old friends who had not seen each other in a while, not two girls who spend over 40 hours a week together.  it was a special night that i can only hope we are lucky enough to recreate.  

we woke up chilly and damp wrapped in old quilts under the tin roof in the bedroom.  the mist was rolling off the river, easing us into another beautiful day.  

down on miller's bend

our cabin is situated on miller's bend of the buckhannon river.  it's a beautiful place and i love to be there.

grammie, izzy, baby b, mmm and i headed there today and enjoyed a very peaceful morning and afternoon. mmm was a trooper and wrangled the babe so i could putter around and do my thing in the woods.  izzy and i went tubing; moose tagged along.

check out some of the photos.  i think they speak for themselves.

so relaxed and worn out.  can't add much more than that.  

chin up, cheer up

need to stop listening to so much ryan adams, but i can't.  too many good words.  too much sorrow in his voice, but sometimes that little bit of hope.  broken, but making light of it.  addicted to him.

ready for the long weekend.  the end of summer.  the beginning of football.  hate admitting that our upcoming trip to the cabin is overshadowing the onset of mountaineer football.  (could lose kith and kin over that statement.)  

for years i have skirted around exactly what the cabin means.  why we can't seem to get rid of it, even though it is not used as often as it should be.  

it's the last bit of home.  the last place all four of the kids ever shared together.  the last place in our possession where our dad was still alive.  i can see him there every time i step onto the stairs we built together.  i can hear him telling izzy not to slam the door.  i remember every fox or deer or turtle or bear we saw.

a little box of wood so tightly bound to my heart that i could never let it go.