There’s an eight sided log cabin in the Huckleberry Mountains in Eastern Washington. Perhaps there’s snow falling on it as I write, beautiful white thick snow that covers the creek behind it and the large tamaracks, pines, and firs that encircle it.
I hear the birds: the chickadees, the swallows, the blue jays, the hummingbirds, the hawks and the ospreys. Maybe a coyote will walk through the pasture or a mama bear and her cub or a cougar.
I know many deer will be there frolicking in the deep snow as the beavers hibernate deeper in their dens.
The cabin will glow from the lights and the fires lit in the iron stoves and oil lamps. The cracking sounds of firewood will ward off the chilly cold.
Inside stands a tree loaded with ornaments and garlands that a young child once made. By the tree, an old walnut upright piano will be waiting to be played as Christmas songbooks sit patiently to be opened.
It will be quiet there. The bed will be covered with thick blankets as books sit stacked by the bedside. They will have a chance to be read. Journals rest on the large table in the living room with pens ready to be used. Games like checkers, Monopoly, Clue and Scrabble will compete for the prime enjoyment of the long evenings. It’s the time of the year. To get away to your favorite place. And be…..
“The Ballad of Desiree” by Susan M. Carr
Merry Christmas 2015