Cabin Life

I long for my own place in the midst of the woods. Evergreens crowding the view. The faint smell of a popping fire. Me in my usual spot: chocolate leather love seat, green cashmere blanket, warm mug in hand, mesmerized by falling snow. It would feel impenetrably safe, awash in contentment; like home.



As I sat by the fire at Daniels Summit Lodge in Utah, I started flipping through a book on the coffee table that seemed to offer some insight into this longing.

Daniel Mack's Log Cabin Living is a montage analyzing the soul of these rustic structures and why they have such a romantic hold on people. Pages of misty images and enchanting quotes support his musings on the connection cabins have to ghosts and fairies. He writes that retaining the shape of a log, rather turning it into lumber, preserves not only its beauty but locks in the spirit of the tree. A cabin is the glorification of nature, rather than man's triumph over it. Mack even suggests further glorifying the natural world by writing a bit of haiku: the inspiration for my two previous entries.



I sat pouring over Log Cabin Living till I was pulled away for dinner. I'd really only had the chance to skim it, which was not nearly enough. So when I got home I pulled up the title on Amazon. The sole reviewer essentially accused the book of being scattered and having bloated prose that delved too much into mystical aspects of cabin life without providing enough instruction on how to assemble one (the precise reasons, of course, that made me like it).

Poor dear. When it comes to the mysterious wonder of cabins, she's obviously missing the magic.