Done!

The certificate of occupancy is a done deal! 

Brian Shelton, our contractor, moved heaven and earth (and a few subs) to make sure we could spend Christmas at the new cabin.  I was confident Brian would pull through for us, and he did.  He ought to have a red fur-trimmed hat and a white beard and drive a sleigh instead of a big red truck.  It's going to be a merry Christmas.

Right now I'm taking a quick break from trying to fit three times as much stuff into the SUV as it will actually hold.  I'm starting to work on Sophie's Choice priorities, but the Christmas tree and decorations come first.  Clothes and food follow.  And the pooch will have to make do with half the back seat instead of all of it.

I was going through some of my husband's old photos over the weekend, looking for a photo of his parents that we could take up this trip since this place was their brainstorm almost 50 years ago, and we're just building, quite literally, on their good idea.  I came across this photo of my husband's father standing on the deck of the old A-frame that burned in the Hayman fire.  The new cabin sits almost exactly on the old footprint.

A promise fulfilled

My husband tells me that his Dad was concerned that this place continue on for the family after he and his wife were gone and Bob promised him that he'd see to it that his wish was fulfilled.  It wasn't a hard promise to make as this place is my husband's favorite place on earth.

It almost looks as if he's waiting for us to show up.

Have a wonderful Christmas and happy New Year with lots of good things and times that truly matter in 2011.

Perservering

All those "ifs"...

If we get a foot of snow:

Look what's coming

If the appliances come:

Steady boys

If the wood stove comes:

Sitting in front of this is a huge part of the dream

If we pass electrical and final inspection for the all important certificate of occupancy:

But Brian knows this and is always ready for an inspection, taking pleasure in precluding the inspector's fun

Martha Stewart carpeting FAIL (accomplice, Home Depot):

After four arrival delays I pulled the plug on Martha yesterday.  A less pricey and more beautiful carpet is going in today!  Thank you Brian and Bill!

But I'm mostly packed (and it's mostly Christmas) and since we know our amazing contractor (and master craftsman) Brian Shelton is at the helm, I have confidence we're going to get through this last week, and that a week from tonight we'll be sitting inside our fabulous new cabin in front of the fire.  Cozy inside against the dark and cold of the first full day of winter, we'll raise a glass of his father's own Chivas Regal, and toast my husband's parents for this gift of a place for a family retreat, and our part in ensuring the tradition continues.

Waiting...with a bit of breath holding

Our contractor, Brian Shelton, has pulled out all the stops to insure that we get to stay in our cabin for Christmas.  We have this one good window of opportunity between work and volunteer obligations that are important to us, and let's face it, the weather in the Colorado Rockies won't make it easier to get up there as winter settles in.

Brian has all the downstairs floors installed along with the hearth.  The power is hooked up as is the propane, so now working there is easier for them since they have heat.  The propane wall heater operates without electricity and is set to keep the cabin at 50 degrees, so there's no need to worry about the pipes freezing, or the cabin doing the freeze/thaw cycle a hundred times a year (not good for it).  Last I heard the plumber was due up there yesterday to install the toilet and sinks and charge the system (running water -- imagine that!) and the electrician was installing the light fixtures.  There's been a slight delay in the carpet order, but it is now supposed to arrive at the Home Depot in Colorado Springs on the 13th, and Brian has a good sub who's promised to get it laid in the loft and on the stairs as soon as it's in hand.  The wood burning stove and appliances are scheduled to arrive and be installed one week from today, on the 17th.  The final inspection, the one for the all important certificate of occupancy, is scheduled for Monday, December 20th.  That will be a day of a bit of breath holding, though there is no way Brian would not be ready for an inspection.  If that goes well, we'll leave a day or two later for Colorado, and that will be a two day thrill ride, not from our driving (or the weather I hope -- can't control that), but from being on the way to experiencing our long time dream as a reality.

Could be the very one my Grandmother made 55 years ago

I found, quite by accident, while cruising Etsy.com, searching under "vintage cabin" -- it is very amusing what you find in that category -- something that took me back over five decades in two seconds.  My Grandma, who lived upstairs when I was a little girl, used to do wonderful crochet work, making what I guess where large doilies, and here was one on Etsy that I swear was the exact pattern I watched my Grandma, with her flashing crochet hook, magically make out of a ball of thread. I now have a small collection of them, all about the size of a sheet of paper or a little bigger.  I'm going to frame them against a dark fabric backing and hang them above the bed.  I think they're perfect cabin decor.

I second the motion...

Brian says no more pictures -- he wants us to see the cabin next in person.  It's clear he's quite proud of this cabin he designed and built, and he should be.  Having this beautiful, soundly constructed cabin to retreat to will change our lives, and it will be a wonderful change too.

Next update: Go or No Go.  We're keeping our fingers crossed and remembering to BREATHE.

Closer and Closer

Being away from a project that is near and dear to you is tough, but it does have its upsides.  Every time I check my email and I get one that's slow to load I have my fingers crossed that it's from our contractor, Brian Shelton, with pictures attached.  And today I got lucky.  I was rewarded with a great leap of progress.

I guess the counter top guys that called me feeling lost on the 16 miles of dirt road managed to find the place.  The counter tops are installed and look great, if a bit dusty.  The backdoor trim looks terrific, as does the trim at the junction of the knotty pine ceiling and walls.  And those cute little shelves at the end of the overhead cabinets are already being put to good use.

The heart of the house.

The laminate floors look great and should stay looking great for a long time to come, no matter how many dogs and grandkids tear through the cabin.  Look at those gorgeous baseboards!  And the beams are even more handsome now that they've been oiled.   

Future home of the wood burning stove

We have windows galore -- we insisted.  Maybe not the best thing from a design perspective, but we are raving amateur naturalists and are in love with the outdoors and the beautiful views -- of the red rocks out the back as much as the sweeping views across the valley.

As engaged as we've been with this project both from being there and from afar, the end is kind of sneaking up on us.  A few more weeks and it will be done, the last of the bills will be paid, and when the phone rings at 6:45 AM it most likely won't be our contractor.  The guest room here in Tucson is piled with things I want to take up when we go in less than [can it be???!!!] four weeks for our first stay in the cabin.  As I said to my husband this morning, we'll never trump this for a Christmas present to ourselves.

Giving Thanks

I'm here in Tucson, which has finally cooled down (high in the 60's today), and am nursing a chest cold which has had me feeling a bit low.  I'm sipping hot tea and popping OTC drugs and still finding a lot to be grateful for:

1) My daughter called me -- that ALWAYS goes on the plus side.

2) We're looking forward to sharing Thanksgiving with friends at an Orphan Party for those of us who aren't with family this holiday -- it's a potluck with all of the feasting and little of the fuss...I'm taking a roasted squash dish and cranberry tart (which I've made before and is as beautiful as it is delicious).

3) Tomorrow is the much anticipated Desert Museum bird walk, part of my docent training, and I'll crawl if I have to.

Sun Wash for counter tops

4) I had a call from the counter top folks which was immediately dropped -- so I knew they were on their way to the cabin and were lost.  I can be happy about this because they did call me back and I was able to give them directions -- as in "you have at least ten more miles of dirt road...just follow the signs," -- and they said the contractor was expecting them and that yes, the counter tops came out great!  Maybe installation is complete, provided they found the place.

5) A hand embroidered piece I bought from Vintage Threads, an online Etsy shop came in the mail this afternoon.  It is absolutely charming and truly handmade and will make a great top for a pillow for our slightly too butch denim & plaid quilt bedroom.  I was always a sucker for Bambi -- this is clearly from a part before "Your mother can't be with you anymore."

In our bedroom Bambi's mother will ALWAYS be with her

6) A good friend, and fellow wildlife habitat gardener from the neighborhood, left a basket on my doorstep that included four adorably cheesy (and perfect for the cabin -- not Tucson) Let It Snow snowman mugs and an old, but very beautiful, family afghan that they were parting with for simplification and downsizing sake.  She's also a wonderful artist -- you can see her work here, at Fountain Studio.  This afghan will warm us in more ways than one.

7) We leave in a month for our first stay in our finished cabin, a dream in incubation for many years, that has consumed -- in a good way -- us for the past year, and one we'll live in for many, many more.

Gould's Turkey from the nearby southern Arizona mountains

There's so much to be thankful for -- Happy Thanksgiving.

Home Stretch

We're at that point where we can hardly draw a full breath from the excitement.  Our contractor, Brian Shelton, sent us the pictures for this post, and in the words of my husband after I forwarded the photos to him at work, "Wow, Wow, Wow! I'm overwhelmed by the beauty of what we've created, the knotty pine ceiling and beams, the window trim, the fantastic kitchen cabinets. I also love the light coming in."  I couldn't have put it better myself.

Sun-filled cabin in mid-November

I love the cabinets.  Check out that sweet little set of shelves at the end of the overhead cabinets.  The first gap you come to is for the dishwasher (yea!), and the kitchen sink goes in the next section.  The stove is the gap on the left and there's a narrow cabinet to its left and beyond that the fridge.  Brian says the honeyed butter walls change all day with the light, and that even on a 22 degree day with no heat, the cabin was warmed enough by the sun to be comfortable enough to work in without any other heat source.  Amazing since those are low-E windows and we're still over five weeks from the winter solstice when the sun will climb even further up the back walls.  Thankfully this will NOT be the case during the summer when the sun's trajectory is much higher, but I do think it would be grand to be sitting in glorious sunshine inside with a couple of feet of fresh snow glistening outside.  Sunglasses indoors in winter?  Bring it.

Brian has done such an amazing job staining the trim so that it would be complementary to the spiced hickory cabinets.  And it all picks up the knots in the pine ceiling.  As Brian said, by hook or by crook, with some planning done on site and some planning done remotely, it's looking like we know what we're doing.  Sort of the cheery retro look I was going for.  All the goodies I've been collecting -- the hammered aluminum, barkcloth fabric for pillows, the 50's table linens, the woodland artwork -- it's going to be unique and wonderful and very, very welcoming.

The high peaked knotty pine ceiling from the loft

Brian's laying the floors next -- the ceramic gray slate-look hearth tiles for the wood burning stove (going in the front corner in the top photo), Sand Hickory laminate floors in living room/dining area, nice retro Armstrong vinyl tiles in a color they call Granny Smith (really more of a mottled sage) in the entry, kitchen, bath, and our bedroom and both closets, and -- don't laugh -- Martha Stewart carpeting in a multi-color tweed called nutmeg (the prison years, and much nicer than the photo in the link depicts) that manages to go with everything for the staircase and loft (and nice for grandkids to play on).  The lights are all bought and waiting for installation.  The countertops (appropriately retro Formica that captures all the colors of the cabin in a soft pattern) will be installed this coming week. Once the floors are laid Brian can finish the trim work (his wonderful signature) and we can have the wood burning stove installed.  The appliances arrive December 2nd, the propane tank will be filled and hooked up to the stove, and then...well, then we might have a cabin instead of a building project.

View from the front door...check out the sun on the wall!

Leach field down the driveway, before backfilling

For those of you with more practical interests, check out the septic system.  As Brian told the engineer, "for a family that's used the same outhouse for almost 50 years, don't you think this is a little bit of overkill?"  Yeah, but code is code, and we should NEVER have to worry about it, not ever.  Frankly, I'd have liked running water in the trailer's kitchen (as I'm sure they'd have enjoyed in the original cabin as well), but I was never too fussed about using the outhouse, even in the middle of the night -- a good way to get in some star gazing -- until we had our nightly visits from the bear.  We'll still do plenty of night skies watching...it's just part of what we do wherever we are...but we won't have to associate them with bare bear gauntlet runs to the loo.

Weather permitting, we'll head up to Colorado a few days before Christmas for our first stay in the cabin through the New Year.  We don't have any furniture, but somehow I don't think we'll mind.  We're hoping to warm that cabin anyway with the help of family and friends.

The End of an Era

It was a glorious long weekend in the Colorado Rockies -- crisp clean air, golden aspens quaking in the bright sun, blue skies, and snuggling at night was essential.  Our awareness that this would almost undoubtedly be the last stay in the trailer was eclipsed by the close-to-finished cabin.  What nostalgia we felt for the five good years of long visits to the Airstream was almost obliviated by the anticipation of a future of many months each year in the cabin.

Before going to the cabin itself, we climbed the red rocks behind it for the traditional view.  When I left in August the front side of the roof had just been shingled, so seeing the back half finished was new.  It was a great angle to see the variations in color and texture of the roof, a color called Driftwood.  The stain on the cabin itself had darkened a bit and was more interesting than it had been.  With the outside of the cabin 95% complete, it was easy to imagine it finished.  All that was missing was woodsmoke drifting out of the chimney.

Just over the hill

Walking down the red rock hill we could see the near completed decks and the code required landing pad at the bottom of what will be the entrance stairs.  There's almost as much outdoor living area with the wrap-around deck as indoor living area, and this outside "room" will see a lot of use.  The views to the red rocks, across the valley to Hackett Mountain, and down valley towards Cedar Mountain are spectacular, and there is much to be seen in the immediate forest by sitting quietly with a pair of binoculars, a bird book, and some patience.

Welcoming porch

The inside of the cabin had just finished being beautifully drywalled; some patches of damp remained.  It was so odd to not look through the framing to the other rooms.  We stood in the back door and took it all in before admitting to each other that it suddenly looked small to us with the walls in place, but after wandering around a bit it looked as we thought it would, cozy but not cramped.  The kitchen is clearly the heart of the cabin, and is generous in relationship to other spaces, but cooking and food are important parts of our lives (and our friends and families lives).

Kitchen area, stairs to loft behind

The loft has turned out to be a charming space with its eagle eye view of the red rocks to the east and the forest to the north.  It's amazingly private for an open space with an interesting view to the rest of the house, framed by the angles of the main roof, (the ceiling will be knotty pine) stub wall, and staircase wall (which will all be topped with a beautify clear pine wood).  It's a space I'm looking forward to sharing with guests as well as using myself.

View from the sleeping area of the loft

The day we left they were starting to paint the inside, a nice warm color similar to dulce de leche ice cream, sort of a soft buttery caramel.  The kitchen cabinets are scheduled to arrive tomorrow.  I'm not sure which will come first -- their installation or the knotty pine ceiling.  Our contractor, Brian Shelton, loves finish work, and the interior will be detailed with clear pine trim around the windows and doors as well as pine baseboards.  Interior doors will be wood.  The floors need to go in yet, as well as some plumbing fixtures, baseboard heaters, a propane heater, and the wood burning stove.  Light fixtures will be installed along with appliances.  There's a lot left to do, but everyday it will look more like a home than a building under construction.

Well insulated (we passed inspection as being
over-insulated by 16% -- thank you Brian) and
ready for the tongue and groove knotty pine

It was quite chilly while we were there -- one day didn't get to 50 and the nights were down near freezing.  It was impossible not to think about living in this well-built, exceedingly snug cabin on a blustery day (like this coming Christmas), curled up on the couch in front of the wood burning stove.  In preparation for our Christmas through New Years inaugural stay in the cabin, my husband made short work of a log pile, fuel for the new Lopi Answer wood burning stove (ours will have regular legs, hopefully sitting on my pewter bear feet from an old Fischer I had in Chapel Hill).

Stay tuned, more about our weekend to come...

The trusty old Poulan
(that's the chainsaw, not the guy)

Adding to the pile

Friends Looking Through the Windows

For six long weeks I've been away from the cabin, sweltering in the triple digit heat of Tucson, busy with docent training, and employing our desert strategies of getting out of the house for a walk when you can barely see enough to have a chance at not stepping on a rattler.  Someone forgot to give Mother Nature the memo on fall's arrival around here.

Looking from outside the back door to the front door

And then I get an email from friends who recently peered in the windows of the our cabin-under-construction before locking up their own and heading back to Wisconsin -- where I am certain it is fall.  These photos are a little fuzzy, but clearly show, along with some reflections off the windows, a cabin with interior walls being installed (likely completed and painted by now), and billows of insulation on the ceiling that will be covered with knotty pine tongue and groove.  What a treat for us to see such progress.  It's beginning to look like a home.

The kitchen walls, staircase, and our bedroom on the left

 I continue my quest for more perfect barkcloth for pillows and am looking forward to having the time to sew after the new year.

Gorgeous print of currants, just like the ones that grow on the drier hillsides around the cabin

We'll get to see the cabin for ourselves this coming weekend, flying into Denver early Friday and home late Monday.  We are quite excited to be able to see it all for ourselves and spend a little time with our contractor and friends.  There will be three chilly nights in the trailer, sort of a farewell stay since the next time we see the cabin will almost certainly be after we get a certificate of occupancy, probably for Christmas and the New Year, and what better place to celebrate this gift to ourselves and welcome in a new era of long summers in the Colorado Rockies.

Watch this space for lots of up-to-date pictures in the next week or so.  Now...where'd I put that glass of iced tea?

Obsessions, Old and New

Gone from the mountains for four weeks now.  Back in the HEAT of Tucson and missing the mountain cool and the project.  The outhouse, not so much.  Not the bear visitations either.  We have had pictures from family and our contractor, and three weeks from now we'll be there for a short four day visit to check in with the project and because we can't stay away.

Slightly fuzzy, but shows the finished roof and the deck

The fourth generation checks out the kitchen area

I'm insanely busy here with training to be a docent at the world famous Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, a decade long dream of mine.  The training is like a heavy semester of grad school -- four months of hours in class, more hours observing on the grounds, tons of reading, exams, essays -- but I'm loving it.  A long-standing Tucson obsession, finally in the stages of being realized.

I'm still finding a little time to work on some cabin decor finessing and a new obsession of mine -- vintage barkcloth fabric.

Gorgeous pine motif from the 50s with gold metallic squiggles

These are some wild pinecones

These two obsessions of mine, being a docent at the Desert Museum (almost a decade in the making) and finding just the right vintage barkcloth for pillows for the new cabin (one month's duration), pale in comparison to my husband's obsession with his long history and future with this mountain property, the cabin that was, and the cabin that will be.  Here's an long ago photo of him when the mountain land and cabin obsession was new, almost half a century ago, standing on the summit of a nearby peak and one we can see from the cabin site.

His determination to hang on to what he has always said to me (he's another decade long obsession of mine), that this place is his hands-down favorite, most beloved location on earth, was the primary motivation to rebuild the cabin.  There are secondary, also important, reasons for doing so, but they are eclipsed by his need to retain this connection with and be a presence on this his most precious spot on the planet, and the one with which he has the most history.  If you are fortunate to have a spot you've identified as The Most Wonderful and Important, then you have to honor that.  It's a gift.

Bittersweet Departure

Last morning before departing

It was a summer we will always remember, most of it fondly, the summer of building the second cabin.  The first cabin gone eight years, and enough time and consideration and healing to allow a commitment of time and energy and money to reestablish a dwelling on the land that holds such a link to the past.

Half shingled!

All told, I spent two months there; my husband a little less.  There were times we wanted to do more and times we wanted to do less, but it was clearly time well spent.  When we first arrived in May it was little more than a hole in the ground.  Now the cabin itself is up, the exterior stained and painted, the decks framed and the roof almost completed.  Before we departeded we were able to see what the cabin will look like from the outside, and were able to imagine with some clarity what it will look like inside when finished off.  We were on hand for decisions like the exact placement of windows and doors, cabinets, countertops, flooring, and paint colors.  Our contractor, Brian Shelton, has a terrific esthetic (as well as being a master builder) and helped guide us to some excellent choices.  I feel like I've done what I set out to do and am confident that our mark will be evident in the way the cabin looks and feels.

View from the road below

It was tough to leave, bittersweet at best.  I've been living this project for over a year and to leave it midstream in its realization took more will than I'd anticipated.  I knew I was leaving it in expert hands, but it was a little like a surrogate pregnancy -- I wanted to be around for any little thing that came up, any bit of help I could give.  But Tucson beckoned, with my husband waiting and Desert Museum docent training starting, I packed up and headed south, with my pooch companion in the backseat and a few lingering last looks at the cabin, both sad and excited that the next time I saw it, it would be finished, or nearly so.

It's not just the cabin; it's the place.  Driving out the sixteen miles, the forest is still close by with the towering ponderosa's, dense firs, and the quaking aspens' shimmering leaves.  Even in mid-August there are already signs that the summer has passed its zenith; wildflowers are on the wane and the foliage of a few plants are already turning red or yellow.  While there were lots of plump raspberries left for me to graze on as I wandered the property that last morning, trying to say goodbye, there were no more flowers and no more fruit to come.

Past peak

Driving down through the Ute Pass in the shadow of Pike's Peak, you leave the forest quickly.  The pines fall away, replaced by a cleared urban foothills after hitting I-25 and heading south.  There's a good hour of high flat meadows, green from the monsoons, with fat happy cattle and the occasional pronghorn antelope interloper.  Climbing over the Raton Pass, the view from the crest is of mesas and plateaus and a near treeless landscape.  Pinon pines are the best you do, and they're fine looking small trees or big shrubs, take your pick.  After overnighting in Albuquerque, the next day's drive is mostly desert shades of brown and ivory and soft reds except for river bottoms and irrigated farm land.  The common thread along the highway was the millions of sunflowers nodding from the bushes lining the roads.

I'd been thinking of getting off I-25 and the shortcut through Hatch, New Mexico, since heading south.  It was chili harvest season, and roasted fresh chilies occupied my thoughts until I swore I could smell them from hundreds of miles away.  I stopped at the first place I could that was advertising roasted chilies, a frame with a blue tarp over it surrounded by cardboard boxes.  I ordered up 10 pounds of hot Hatch chilies and watched as they were tumbled in a perforated metal cylinder and blasted with a blow torch.  The skin seared and blackened in just a couple of minutes and the hot chilies where put in a large plastic bag, tied with an overhand knot, and placed in a burlap bag.  By the time I got home four hours later I'd be able to slip the skins off, squeeze out most of the seeds, and enjoy them with some sharp cheddar while dreaming of all the green chili chicken stew and other spicy Mexican dishes I'd make with them.  It didn't take five minutes for me to realize the error of my ways.  Plastic bag or not, the car, windows up and A/C on, had filled with the throat constricting, eye burning vapors of the hot chilies.  Windows down didn't help much.  Finally, after realizing that three more hours of this was way too much of a good thing, I stopped at a Dollar Store in the almost middle of nowhere and bought a small pack of garbage bags.  Three bags later I figured we were good to go.  The chilies are incredible and the experience was certainly worth it, but the car still smells faintly of roasted Hatch chilies.  I'll be better prepared next year.  Indulging in the regional cuisine is part of a helpful transition from the cool mountains back to the desert heat, and I was ready to spice things up.

The Adventure Continues

Sunday, August 15th

Today was my last “off” day before heading home.  Tomorrow I’ll dash to the nearby -- well, a little over an hour’s drive -- mountain town of Woodland Park.  I’ll throw in a load of clothes at the laundromat, pick up my husband’s chainsaw that’s been in for a tune-up, return some paint supplies we didn’t use since we didn’t do the staining ourselves, and visit the library to check emails, post to this blog, and find a couple of DVD’s to borrow for bear visitor distraction in the dark hours.  I’ll also stop by the Forest Service and ask advice about my bear issue.  Someone told me they’ll give you a couple of M-80 fireworks to discourage, but not hurt, a bear that has become a regular visitor.  But doesn’t that mean opening the door?  

During the rest of my remaining time here, just three days, I’ll hold my breath while Contractor Brian shingles our steep 45 degree roof, inventory and organize the lights, door knobs, faucets, and other items I’ve bought for the cabin that will be installed in my absence, get the trailer ready to leave, and hopefully see some neighboring friends that are due here any day now.

I spent much of today on the covered part of the deck my contractor rushed so that I could experience what will be one of the most frequented and best loved parts of the cabin before leaving.  My morning included a travel mug of mocha and an afghan draped over my shoulders.  Later I loaded up one of my Mexican shopping bags with water, binoculars, bird books, wildlife and wildflower guides, a couple of novels, and a sliced apple with peanut butter for lunch and returned to the porch.  I didn’t get much fiction read, but spent a great deal of time reviewing Rocky Mountain flora and fauna, and ID’d a new bird, the diminutive blue-gray gnatcatcher.  It’s amazing what you see if you sit quietly and patiently with a pair of binoculars.  

Strictly decorative puff ball clouds turned more serious late this afternoon, and a few fat drops fell on me in the hammock where I’d retreated when the strong 4 PM sun had claimed the porch.  Thunder rumbled a bit and then quit, but by sunset the clouds were building in the west and heading my way.  The velvet antlered buck and his doe that frequent our site crossed the saddle and disappeared into the densest part of the forest behind me.  The sky turned orange both where the sun was setting and reflecting off the cumulus to the east.  I pushed my luck watching the show from the high rocks a hundred yards from the trailer as twilight fell fast and I wondered what my strategy would be if a bear beat me home.  

I’m now secure inside my “bread box”.  The clouds that made sunset so stunning are now illuminating the sky with explosive flashes of lightning, and the thunder is rolling around the valley like a tympani drum concert.  Nothing is striking too close, and that’s good as I’m quite aware I’m sitting on a ridge in an oversized steel can.  It’s raining off and on, big drops, but nothing too hard, hopefully just enough to keep bears and racoons snug in their lairs, just as Bump and I are snug in ours.  

Now if I only had an indoor loo...

The Last Weekend

First touch of the sun

Saturday, August 14th

I’m sitting in my trailer after a full day of “assisting” with the cabin build.  It’s dark outside -- I make sure to be inside the trailer by Bear O’clock, before the latest stage of twilight.  Something fairly light just ran across the roof of the trailer, and I can hear soft snuffling and a bit of low grunting or growling outside (or is that my dog snooring?).  This has been the pattern for the past several days, ever since we got “beared”.  Today when I got in the C-RV to go down to the ranch house for a shower I noticed some crumbly humus-rich forest dirt on the door handle, not what would splash up from a mud puddle on our dirt roads.  I think something tall enough to reach the handle gave it a try; I’m glad I’ve been locking the car.  Bob’s truck has bear paw and drippy nose marks on it too.  The noises outside right now could be a racoon -- they make a sound like a someone trying, and failing, to start a chainsaw at some distance away.  I’m trying to be relaxed about this stuff, especially now that I’m alone up here and don’t have my husband to alert with big eyes and nervous giggles.  I know I have no place on a bear’s food pyramid, but I also know I don’t want to cross paths with one.  I’ll stay in here (with the rare foray out for a pit stop after making some human noise and sweeping the area with my flashlight), and they can stay out there. 

The cabin was stained yesterday, a gorgeous transparent taupe that lets the golden tones of the wood shine through just a bit.  Advised against dark paint colors for the doors (they’re steel sheathed and get hot in the sun), I chose a soft, almost silvery sage green that looks wonderful with the siding and the driftwood colored shingles.  The gray green door will look great opening onto the Granny Smith apple green flooring that will run through the entry, kitchen, bedroom and bath.  The cabin promises to be a pallet of calming colors that don’t match, but blend well with the forest around us. 

Yes, SIR!

It’s my last weekend at the cabin project for the summer.  Today was a busy day with our contractor Brian putting up much of the support framing for the wrap around deck.  I made myself useful by cleaning up all the scrap piles of wood and policing the site, doing a little shovel and rake work leveling out the odd high or low spots around the foundation, moving cut deck joists to where they were needed, and occassionally holding the “dumb end” of the tape measure while Brian “racked” the deck supports, making sure they were perfectly square.  

Brian’s goal for today was to make sure I had a deck to sit on under the porch on the front of the cabin, and he accomplished that.  Before he left we were able to sit on the deck, temporarily a plywood surface, along with my neighbor Nancy, and raise our glasses of wine and bottles of beer to the best builder west of the Mississippi.  When Brian lived in the New England area he was the best builder east of the Mississippi, but I’m glad he’s on this side now.  

After dinner I mosied on down to the cabin again with a glass of wine and watched the first sunset from the deck, and was so sorry my husband is no longer here to share it with -- he’d have been so thrilled.  I did my best to enjoy it for the both of us (it wasn’t hard), trying a little mental telepathy, sending the blissful vibes to him in Tucson.  The sun set at 7:40, off to my right a bit.  Drifts of innocent clouds moved straight towards me, glowing first golden and then coral while the forest air quickly cooled.  The porch roof caught and amplified the burble of Deer Lake spilling into Turkey Creek below.  A quarter moon, brightening by the minute, hung low over Hackett Mountain.  The last of the daylight birds glided past into the pines and firs below, their final calls fading into quiet.  I thought of the countless sunsets we’d enjoy from that deck, the smell of dinner still lingering in the cabin behind us, the conversations we’d have, the laughter, the tender moments.  So many precious times lay ahead in this place.

I can hardly believe I’ve been here for two months this summer, or that it’s almost over.  I’ll be back in Tucson in less than a week, and that includes two days of driving.  Tomorrow is my last “free” day during this summer of building, and I’m planning on making the most of it by having coffee on the new front porch of the cabin, taking a nice walk with my pooch Bump, returning back to that porch for a good long sit with a book and my binoculars nearby for bird watching.  Then three more days of watching the construction -- shingling is probably next -- and pitching in when I can be useful, and then it’ll be time to pack up and head south.  As hard as leaving this place and this project will be, I’m looking forward to a happy reunion with my husband back in Tucson, where together we can dream of all the Rocky Mountain summers to come.  

Doors, Chimneys, Shingles, and Night Visitors

We have two exterior doors now that lock and a chimney that is hooked to pretty much nothing.  The shingles have arrived and some sit atop the loft roof, awaiting installation.  It's been a week of subs -- John and his son Alex from Mad Dog Plumbing, Guido for electrical, and the Western Fireplace team to fit the chimney, a necessity prior to shingling.  Richard the painter will come do the exterior staining on Friday, a job that constant rain prevented us from doing while my husband was still here.  

Bob's back at work in Tucson now and leaving almost brought him to tears.  I'm here for another week or so to answer questions and be able to help make decisions about the placement of lighting fixtures, switches, and outlets, and at least one more trip to big box stores in Colorado Springs.  Sadly, the old lights I sought out and purchased cannot be installed, at least not before final inspection, so my list of lighting fixtures to purchase will be a little longer than I'd anticipated.  I'm surprised Home Depot doesn't roll out the red carpet when I pull into the parking lot, but then again..

After spending the night with Bob's sister in Denver before she oh-so-kindly dropped him at the airport shuttle at 5 AM (!!!), she and I spent the morning catching up and harvesting from her fabulous garden we capped the visit off with lunch at a fabulous Indian buffet.  Filled with terrific food, I headed back to the wilderness, running the gauntlet of heavy rains near Colorado Springs, a rock slide near Manitou Springs, and a black as night storm that felt like I was driving through the Gates of Hell in Divide.  The dirt roads were slick with mud, so it was very slow going once leaving the pavement.  Over a dozen squishy slippery miles later I pulled up behind our trailer, relieved to have finally gotten home safe and sound.

My protector.  Right.

Or had I?  How'd our seven gallon blue water jug end up so far from the trailer?  And where were my bird feeders?  The propane tank from the gas grill was tossed aside and the drip pan lay in a nearby low-growing juniper.  Large paw prints covered the trailer and the windows had been smeared by a large and drippy nose.  We'd been beared.  Having had some success with seed from the feeders, a suet block (where the heck was the wire holder for that?!), and the grill I figured the bear might return for a second helping.  Bump and I were inside with the doors locked as darkness fell.  Around 2 AM I awoke to a shuffling sound on the deck, but the flashlight was useless for looking outside, and by the time I'd gotten up and turned on the porch light, whatever had been there had moved on.  The next morning, our contractor, Brian Shelton, came up to check it out.  He warned me to close the sturdy louvered windows at night (I hadn't), as all bears needed was to hook a nail, but that if I made sure to leave nothing outside a bear would be interested in that in a night or two it would stop coming around -- just like we'd quit going to a grocery store whose shelves were bare.  Last night I kept the porch light on, closed the windows and opened the ceiling vents (inconvenient with the sprinkle we had around midnight.  Before bed I heard something on the deck, but quickly switched on the radio and by the time I looked out I saw nothing.  This morning the bucket we keep outside for hauling water was turned over, but nothing more.

I'm considering turning on the radio loud some time after midnight tonight (oh for an M-80) and waiting for a few minutes before putting our pooch on a leash and going outside to see the Perseids meteor shower, which should be spectacular here -- the stars on a clear night with nothing special going on knock your socks off, so maybe a meteor shower would be worth the risk.  Or maybe I'll just have a bowl of freshly picked wild raspberries with whipped cream and call it a night.

Warm from the sun