Travel Tuesdays: The Family Cabin

At the right time of year, I can step across from dry rock to dry rock. Other times the rocks are overflowing with water and slippery moss covering the rocks prevents safe passage. From this series of  little water falls comes the lullaby of the river.

 

Considering we go to the family cabin at least once a year and usually twice, I'm surprised I haven't written about it on my blog, yet! Maybe it's because there's a part of me that wants to keep this treasure to myself. This is what I consider to be my main inheritance from my parents. I got some 'stuff' from them, mementos and more books than I needed, but this is different. This is family history. Experiences. Roots. Tangible.

Looking up at the cabin and deck from the river.

 

My predominant memory of the cabin from childhood is being so car sick by the time we got there that I could hardly stand on my shaky legs, stumbling out of the car to reorient myself in the grassy field. There are some vague memories of sleeping in the upstairs loft with my sisters and three girl cousins. Now I wonder where my brother slept? He must have felt outnumbered. 

In the background, there is always the sound of the river dancing over the rocks, singing a song with a timbre that changes from season to season with the volume of water. How I loved to play in the water, carefully navigating the rocks, slippery with moss, hunting for crawdads, watching 'skitter bugs' skate across the surface, swimming, splashing and being a kid.

I remember Grandpa sitting in the old Morris chair, thus in my mind dubbed the Grandpa Chair. Several years ago when buying new furniture, the warmth of that memory influenced the choice of recliner. Now that we've sold the house and moved into the RV, one of them is at the cabin, sitting next to the Morris chair. Nearly a century apart in age, but similar in style and purpose.

Blessed by the new and the old. .

My project this year was to made new cushions.

It was very satisfying to have the skills and equipment to make new cushions for the Morris chair making it more comfortable. The sagging, lumpy cushions caused us to avoid it. Armed with sewing machine, fabric and foam, I set to work and finished it my first day there. The rest of our stay, we enjoyed having two comfortable chairs from which to enjoy a movie or two, or reading.

This year, we went in July for ten days, instead of the usual June and September trips. A whole day is taken up traveling the 335 miles in each direction, which gave us eight full days there. We worked on projects, read books, took walks and visited people. So often we only have three to five days, which is barely time to relax and get a small project done. This felt almost decadent and we were pleased with how much we accomplished. No matter how long we are there, it never seems to be enough time. I suppose that's how it is with something one enjoys. 

The June trip is scheduled to coincide with the Annual Shareholders Meeting, the small group of us who own the property the cabins sit on. The last two years we have met via Zoom. We look forward to meeting in person next year. There are six cabins there by the river, most of which have been passed down the families for generations. The Corporation owning the property was incorporated in 1913. Many things have changed since then, but the sense of history and continuity remain, will all of us committed to preserving the heritage we have. Our cabin was built by my Grandfather in 1946, with the others built some before and some after. Pictures of the large canvas tent used prior to the cabin were fun to see. We would call this Glamping, now, but I'm sure Grandma would have had some other description.

With a pleasing mix of vintage, antique and modern, the cabin exudes warmth and welcome.

The kitchen is fun to work in and a nice change from the RV. Surrounded by antiques, vintage appliances and Grandma's old china, I revel in the connectedness I feel with those who have used this kitchen before me. Plus it's fun to see what I can do with what I have available.

Memories of my Grandmother and other family members wrap around me in this vintage kitchen.

The mahogany plywood shipped as crates from the Philippines 70 years ago lines the walls and ceiling. In one panel, my great aunt's touches of paint bring to life a water scene she envisioned in the grain of the wood. Much of the charm of the cabin stems from this wood.

Since inheriting my share of the cabin in 2003, we have spent many of our September anniversaries there. Some years we were involved in projects that took all of our energy and time. Like the year we built a retaining wall under the cabin to hold back the river's high water encroachment. Stretched to the limits of our strength, endurance, and patience. Or the one spent scraping up the old tiles to prepare for the new flooring. We were too focused, and too tired, to drive a half hour into town for a celebratory meal. With an easy meal and a "Happy Anniversary" we dragged ourselves off to be overcome by the sleep of the exhausted.

43rd Anniversary at the cabin last Fall. The smokey haze from wildfires, miles away on either side, turning the greens an odd shade and obscuring the sun. 

 

September is a great time to be there. Usually the weather is still nice, sometimes even hot. It seldom rains, but the nights start to cool. The large wood stove is rarely needed by us. I soon found out that it can hold the heat all too well and only two chunks are needed to remove the morning chill. Anything more than that lasts for hours, well into the warmth of the day when doors are thrown open and fans turned on. 

My grandparents built it, passed it on the my dad and my aunt, and now it's owned by my oldest cousin and her heir, my sister, my niece and myself. We share in the upkeep and expenses as well as the privilege of being there with the river song lulling us into greater well-being. There is always work to be done, but with such a setting, the effort is well repaid. And break times are unsurpassed. I've already scheduled next year's trips on the family calendar.

Do you have a heritage you treasure? Family memories, stories or items passed down? I'd like to hear about them.

Travel Tuesday: Ocean Shores

The vast expanse of sandy beach, waves a fringe between sand and sky.

Since we needed to move the motorhome anyway, we decided to plan a trip somewhere. Many times we had pulled the motorhome out for some reason, and not thinking beyond that, found ourselves wishing that we could just go somewhere while we were in travel mode.  Instead we just went back to our home park and settled in. Even though our home is mobile, it's a matter of an hour or two of preparation to switch from parked mode to travel mode, especially when we've been parked for a month or more. Things tend to migrate out to the deck, or inside and then I must remember which goes where for traveling. 

We started out with the idea of  two or three days at the coast. A quick getaway that would satisfy the former disappointment of not going anywhere. It rather annoyed me that we have lived less than 2 hours from the beach for four summers and had not made it over there yet!

Finally, off we went to Ocean Shores, parking at the Casino for $10 a night. Since it's only a quarter mile walk to the beach, that's a great deal. It doesn't bother me that it's nothing more than a gravel parking spot, but parking where you can hear the ocean? Smell the salt water? Oh, yeah. Happy Camper time.

After getting settled, I was off to the beach to get some sand between my toes. It was lovely weather, just the right amount of warm with a gentle breeze accompanied by the sound of the surf. Delicious. Walking in sand makes me feet happy--except when it's hot, then, not so much. But the hard wet sand near the surf is cool and inviting. We walked along for awhile, then Jerry went off to run his high intensity interval training (HIIT). I continued to beach comb, then chased the waves letting them catch me. The water wasn't as cold as I expected. Still, I wasn't going in past my knees. Finally I headed for a place to settle into the sand. watch the waves and listen to the ocean song. To me there is no more healing sound than the ocean waves pounding the sand. A God symphony reminding me of His greatness and shrinking my worries.

Right from the first, I knew two days weren't going to be enough time to let the sea-song settle into me sufficiently. In our debate about a third day, we noticed and email from our home park informing us of the road treatment being applied that day. We didn't want to drive on it freshly applied, so we debated some more. Then we read the weather report. With record highs expected (111?!)  it seemed silly to return to Olympia before the weather cooled. A few emails and texts later, we were set to spend a week. Not only would I be missing out on the heat, I'd be able to stay near the beach indulging in my favorite sandy pastimes. I'm pretty sure a Happy Dance was involved here.

We also happened to be there the weekend of the Sand and Sawdust Days where there are amazing sand sculptures and chainsaw artists in various places around Ocean Shores. We enjoyed watching the artists at work with the chainsaws, but we were also glad to duck into the Convention Center with their air conditioning to visit the vendor booths. Yes, even at the beach it got hot, but not as hot as inland.

Sand sculpture near Convention Center. The pop-ups behind are the wood carvers.

Wood carver checking the design.

Three charming bears keeping an eye on everything.

Our picnic lunch was consumed from our truck on the beach in what became a beach parking lot with rows and rows of cars. We were late comers to the activities and found a place one row back from the waves so we could watch them while we ate. We soon found out why cars had moved--the tide was coming in! We watched in fascination as a couple of cars whose occupants were somewhere down the beach were threatened by the waves encroaching. Finally we felt it prudent to move and drove to the back of the parking area to take pictures of a series of sculptures. Jerry had to go back and take pictures of the one little white car with waves lapping at its tires. It got as high as the axles before we left, still wondering when the owners would arrive to discover their dilemma. The heavy duty tow truck we had seen nearby was likely going to get more business rescuing the unwary.

We returned home to discover trees and shrubs whose western facing leaves were burnt, unused to the triple digit temperatures and relentless sun. I was thankful to only loose one plant in the heat wave, with only a few burnt leaves on a couple of plants. My neighbor did a great job of watering all my plants and giving them love while I was away. 

The saying "Timing is everything" was especially true for this jaunt to the coast. What a gift from Father God, showing the depth of His love and care. Sometimes He strengthens us to meet the challenges we face, and sometimes He whisks us away to a place of refreshing and rest. He's a good like that. And I am so thankful.

When I was sitting on the beach allowing the sand to flow through my fingers, I was reminded of the verse in Psalm 139:17-18:

How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!
How great is the sum of them!
If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand

This thought arrested my attention: God, who knows me so well, loves me so much that He's thinking of me all the time. How many grains of sand were in just my hand? Looking up at the expanse of the sand stretching for miles, my mind was overwhelmed. Just one beach. Just one part of the world. Wow. His thoughts towards me are MORE in number than the sand. Jeremiah 29:11 says that His thoughts towards me are good! I love that. That's a LOT of good thoughts coming my way. Unfathomable. Delightful.

When I was younger I was unconsciously waiting for Him to strike me with lightning or something for messing up. Discovering that He's not like that has not only been a great relief, but a joy. His thoughts towards me are good. He loves me. I'm cool with that.

In His love I am secure and even when He must correct me, I know He has my best interests in mind. He does it so lovingly that I am strengthened and made better by it. Trusting His good plans for me, I don't hesitate any more to go to Him for everything and with everything. Peace, hope, wisdom. He has it all.

The beach is where I feel His presence the most. It is the place where I see this constant reminder of His love and how much bigger He is than my problems. In the pounding of the surf I hear deep call to deep; the deep of His love calls to the deepest part of me. This has been my best "YES" ever.