An Ode to the Cabin

Tis an old cabin.  It was built in 1927, and still bears the family name.  One might call it a structure, because it is composed of parts, howbeit without complexity.  And now as it takes the weight of the wind its boards and timbers creak and moan a little.  It's cedar-shingled roof remains in place, though its roofline sags in the middle.  There is no longer a true right angle any place.  Each door is a parallelogram; and the floors tilt.  The house may be held aloft by the chimney foundation while the corners settle inexorably toward eventual demise.  The theorem that everything falls apart unless one props it up my well one day soon be proved in this edifice.  Yet, out of deference to its purpose, it continues to endure and to "hang in there" midst wind, rain, and snow; alas for how much longer we do not know.  With jacks and braces, posts and paint its hosts have defied he ravages of time in favor of its existence.  It is a contest. 

Those who build the cabin knew exactly what they were about.  But, again, 76 years is longevity.  This structure was put together by a race of frontier-drugstore artisans whose skill, strength, and capacity are now in doubt.  The notable thing about it is this;  the cabin remains oblivious to storms, be they human or the elements of nature.  It continues to rest quietly among the pine trees of Mt. Graham at an altitude of 7800 feet.  Inured as it is to wear and time it will continue to play host to many people.  Grandpa and Great-Grandpa and Grandma alike have utilized its convenience for family recreation.  Both family and friends gravitate to its protective purpose each summer to savor the cool surroundings, to read a book under a pine tree, to play games, toast marshmallows in the fireplace, to catch horny toads and doodle-bugs, to exercise their legs on a hike to the "bear cave", or on a hike to "Ladybug Peak", or to facilitate a ride to the other side of the mountain.  In short the Crandall clan and progeny all like a trip to the cabin, because it is out of doors and away from civilization.  One might describe a day or night at the cabin as an innovative matter...one does what is fun at the moment.  If Grandpa happened to be around, he innovated slingshots for the intrepid hunters.  That's when the lizards and Blue-jays would abandon camp.

This Ode to the Cabin would be remiss if it did not include an anecdote or two relative to happenings peculiar to the cabin.  To wit:  Not too many summers ago Grandpa Clarence had an encounter with a white-footed Peromyscus Leucopus (a mouse in other words).  It happened late one night at the cabin.  Grandpa looked up from his Louis-Lamour paperback and saw a little mouse watching him from a corner across the room.  He looked at the mouse, and the mouse looked at him for the space of several minutes.  Then the mouse began poking along the baseboard, keeping close to the wall.  At about that time, malevolence overtook Grandpa- He reached for his "Daisy" (pellet gun).  As he did so the white-footed mouse retired behind the dish cabinet.  Now Grandpa was not one to be outmaneuvered.  He peeped into the small space behind the cabinet and spotted his prey.  He, thereupon, poked the barrel of his "Daisy" into the narrow space for the "coup de grace", but was taken by surprise when the mouse jumped onto the barrel of his gun and ran up to where he or she was eyeball to eyeball with Grandpa.  Now he didn't expect things to develop that way.  This brought on an impasse with his malevolence; his conscience waxed penitent, as it were.  He (or she) was a delicate creature with a russet-brown back and a white belly, big ears, dark eyes and a pleading face.  It was the dark eyes and pleading face that cowered Grandpa into a state of repentance.  Needless to say, the mouse was now confident that he saw grace in Grandpas eyes, for he jumped to the floor in a strangely calm way and sauntered back to his hole.  Grandpa has speculated on subsequent visits to the cabin that his little nocturnal friend was grateful for that untoward meeting with him, because his mousey friend manages now to come out at night at will and eat the crumbs left on the floor intentionally.  If noting else can be said about this drama-of-life, one has to acknowledge that a sudden flair of mutual admiration does wonders for God's creations.

And then there was that encounter with the bear.  But nothing really needs to be recorded here about that incident, except that Clarence can testify as to the bad breath brown bears on Mt. Graham have.  When Clarence opened the front door to the cabin one bright morning he found himself standing eyeball to eyeball with old Bruin, and exchanging bad breath with him (or her).  To the bear, Clarence didn't look quite right.  He was as much surprised as was Clarence.  Now because it was very early in the morning, realization on both sides of the door was slow in developing.  When reality did register, Clarence slammed the door and old Bruin put all four feet into action and took off down the canyon.  "Nuff said!"