I try to go once a year to Camp Fresno at Dinky Creek for a week. All by myself. My Cabin is number 39. During the Summer the campground is full, but I go either in the Spring, the week before Memorial Day, or in the Fall, the week after Labor Day.
At those times there may be a few people during the day, but often at night, especially in the spring, there is no one but me. It’s quiet. It’s dark. It’s mine.
This is the view from my cabin at the edge of the campground: Trees and rocks, lizards and squirrels. And sky and wind. Sometimes, as I sit outside reading, I hear the wind approaching from behind me. It sounds like a train coming down the track: Behind me, over my head, and off over the cabin. I hear the wind in a way I never hear it down here in the valley.
It is, indeed, my Happy Place.
If I turn around I can see other cabins, but they don’t bother me. I just don’t turn around. That little building you can see in the sunlight at the right , behind the trees, is the “outhouse.” It has running water and two toilets – all the mod cons. At night I used to have a bucket, but after my knee replacement surgery, I just took my potty chair.
I go to draw and to write.
I go to sit around the fire. I’m very good at building fires. One time I looked around at other people’s fires. They were all smokey. Mine was just a glorious blaze. I was very proud.
Although I go to be alone, sometimes the very Right People show up. These are my Dinky Creek Sisters, Glenda, Clara, and Glenda. They go twice a year to clean up the campground before and after the season. They clear brush, they paint, they repair cabins, they sew curtains. They work for their cabin. I pay money and just relax.
One year I was given a bottle of French wine by a friend. It was my birthday, so I invited the Sisters to come over that evening, sit around the fire, and share my wine.
As it began to to get dark, I heard singing. I looked and saw flickering lights through the trees. It was the Sisters, with candles, singing Happy Birthday.
A good time was had by all.
Clara found wood stacked at a cabin where the people had left, so she loaded it in her car and brought it to me.
If I go up the hill and sit on a rock to visit the lizard neighbors, this is what we see, the lizards and I.
My Little Cabin in the Woods is, indeed, my Happy Place. I will go there again soon…