I love the cabin. I love the cabin so much there aren't words big enough and emphatic enough and superlative enough to describe how MUCH I love the cabin.
The cabin was built by my great grandfather when my dad was still young. My dad even remembers sleeping in the loft before the roof was finished. I believe my aunt was also attacked by bats on that occasion, but I can't confirm that story at this time. Although my great grandfather lived in Santa Barbara, on an airplane he once sat next to a dairy farmer from Southern Idaho. During their flight they struck up such a friendship that Great Grandaddy started driving his trailer up and parking it on this farmer's property during the summers and would go up and down the road fixing people's tractors. He got to be friends with the whole neighborhood, and bought a bit of land on that road where he used to park his trailer. That is where he built the cabin.
It is on the side of a steep hill, in the foothills of the Cache Valley (aka the most beautiful place on earth). There is an orchard to one side and a creek running through the back yard. Two whole walls of the front room are floor to ceiling windows that show a panoramic picture of the mountains behind.
See what I mean? Heaven on earth.
Some of the best memories of my life are from the cabin. For me, being there inspires peace of mind, happiness, gratitude and a deeper love of my family. So needless to say, I'll run up there every chance I get. So when I found myself in SLC for the wedding, with approximately 24 hours to spare, I took the opportunity to head to the cabin for the night, where my grandparents, my dad, my uncle and two of my cousins were already staying for the weekend, having come up for deer hunting.
We picked apples, baked, sat around chatting and ate copious amounts of my grandparents' amazing cooking.
It was short visit, but more than worth it.
1 comment:
I still can't believe we didn't take pictures on that trip! What were we thinking?
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