The Christmas Diaries, Part 5

A snug cabin in which to ride out the storm

Storm Warning, December 21st 

It’s nice to welcome winter in a place that has the quintessential look and feel of winter.  Snow on the ground and dusting the evergreens, a nice contrast and keeping it from looking at all bleak as it might in some landscapes, the temperature in the low-20’s appropriately brisk, to say the least.  Our wireless weather station has flashing snowflakes displayed for a “future forecast” (bit of an oxymoron, me thinks).  The sky is clear and a light blue at the horizon, intensifying at the zenith.  We’re hoping for several hours outside again this afternoon, knowing it might be the last comfortable outside time we get for several days.

Prepared

There’s a winter storm watch on from this afternoon and through tonight, tomorrow, tomorrow night and into the following day.  We could get nothing, or we could get the 2-5 inches they’re predicting, or we could get more.  Most assuredly we’ll dip down into single digits (on either side of zero degrees), but our cabin is so snug (thank you builder Brian), and our wood supply is essentially endless.  We’re provisioned well for a month (less well until the spring thaw).  We have little to worry about with a storm, and that is more than offset by the excitement (weather junkies that we are).  We have two big bookshelves filled with fiction, non-fiction, and reference books on nature and cooking, Kindles loaded up with reading material, an absolutely full iPod, NPR on the radio, one DVD to watch on the computer (Snowflower and the Secret Fan), jigsaw puzzles, games, two laptops, a sewing machine with projects galore, three different places to nap (the loft is the warmest), a phone to call family and friends, the chains on the SUV, a good dog, and binoculars near every window for bird watching.  And, thank goodness, we truly enjoy our own and each other’s company.

Sharing the road for a bit

After lunch the temperature climbed to near 40, so we put on a couple of layers plus our fleece vests and headed out for a pre-snowstorm walk.  It had clouded up and was looking quite gray in the northwest, so we knew we wouldn’t be going far.  We headed down the drive and up the main road in the opposite direction to Tuesday’s walk with our happy dog trotting out ahead.  We rounded a corner and found a neighbor’s dog lying in the road, keeping an eye on things.  He joined our dog for half a mile or so and then scenting with his nose deep in some tracks in the snow, headed off into the forest.  Bump took a few tentative steps to follow him, ended up in chest deep snow, and thought better of it, rejoining us on the road.  About a mile along we turned back into an freshening breeze and a darkening sky, and retraced our steps.  The snow scrunched underfoot, and with the increasing chill we were glad to get back to the warm cabin.

This way home...or maybe
we'll walk the driveway

It started snowing around 4 PM, and half an hour later we had an inch on the deck and were losing sight of the features across the valley.  We know that landscape so well that as it disappeared from view we still thought we could see the ghost of the mountain forming our horizon, but it was gone.  I took extra pleasure in making us a hot dinner -- oven roasted potatoes and a Greek veggie-tofu scramble -- which we devoured with a glass of Malbec.  The evening was spent with the porch lights on, watching the snow thicken and the depth increase.  We went to sleep snug under the quilt, unable to shake the vision of swirling wind-driven snow, wondering what we’d see when we looked outside in the morning.

Remembering the Firsts

Arriving

It's been four weeks since our frantic closing up of the cabin and the toboggan ride down our long, steep, snow glutted driveway in our SUV.  It was an exhilarating first stay in the beautiful completed cabin, and exhausting too, feeling driven to get this image I'd been working towards for a year and a half out of my head and into reality.

Bottom of the toboggan run...oops, I mean driveway

We had to move out of the trailer to move into the cabin.  And then there was all the stuff we'd brought with us and a huge truckload of things stored in our friends' basement in Colorado Springs which required fetching.  After a couple of nights of sleeping on the floor on pads we realized our 60-something bodies were none to pleased with that and a 100 mile round trip run to Costco for a bed was an imperative.  We decided to stop by the Broadmoor Consignment stop, not far off our route in The Springs, just to have a look.  We ended up buying a table, a couch and an antique dresser; another trip to pick them up.  All the shelves in the kitchen a bathroom had to be lined before moving into those rooms.  And there was the kitschy fake white Christmas tree to get up and decorate and the colored lights to be put up on the porch.  Artwork I'd been collecting needed hanging, the bathroom towel bars, hooks and holders had to be installed, as did the swing-arm reading lamps in the bedroom.  Firewood had to be fetched from the pile and moved near the back door, and the fire needed tending relentlessly.  There was a lot to do, but it was exciting to see the vision of a finished, furnished cabin become a reality.

There were a lot of firsts:

First running water EVER!

First fire in the wood burning stove

First morning's light on the knotty pine ceiling

First snow storm

First cabin Christmas

First sub-zero (note the minus in front of the 13)

First overnight guests

First snow for a desert dog (an unhappy desert dog)

First hypothermia for a desert dog

First watching of ice skating on the lake below the cabin

We also had our first family visit; Bob's three nieces made the three hour trip from Denver for lunch and a hike, pre-snow (and we also had the first announcement of a pregnancy during that visit, a great-nephew with whom to look forward to sharing the cabin).  We had our first dinner guests, our dear friends from across the lake -- after years of incredible hospitality from them it was such a thrill to host them in the comfort of a real cabin.  We had neighbors stop by for hot chocolate, and other vigilant ones to check to see what the lights and chimney smoke were all about (they were relieved to find us there and not interlopers).

Each day was so fraught with "firsts", so thrilling, and yes, so exhausting.  After a year and a half of planning, consulting with our builder, Brian Shelton, two months of being on site during the construction, deciding on materials, looking for just the right things to help make it an "instant" home, and writing checks that made my hands shake, we were finally able to live inside the dream turned to reality.

It was so hard to leave right when I could see that I might be able to just sit and enjoy our labors for a day, but duty called.  The white knuckled, but successful 4-wheel drive sleigh ride down the long steep driveway behind us, the road slowly improved, and soon -- too soon -- we were heading south to our other home in the Sonoran desert where we'll once again dream of the reality of the cabin and look forward to a long, and often lazy, summer in the cool Colorado Rockies.

Desert homeward bound

Winter Storm Flashback

December 30th.  Happiness.  Complete.

Morning of the storm, pre-flakes

It started, at last, as a few lazy flakes dancing their way to the ground around 11 AM.  We had just made a run to the Ranch House to use the phone to make some calls and cancel a January 2nd motel reservation “just in case” we got snowed in.  There’d been talk of this among the few folks we’d seen a couple days ago at the grocery in Divide and the hardware store in Florissant -- storm moving in Wednesday or Thursday with snow and highs in the teens -- and we’d restlessly awaited it’s arrival.  Well, it’s here.

At first I watched from the loft window as the snow picked up a bit, seeming to disappear upon reaching the ground.  Downstairs in front of the fire I watched the flakes grow to the size of doll house doilies.  The far mountain across the valley started to fade as the snowfall increased until it could only be seen in your imagination.  One by one the ridges between have ceased to exist.  Looking through the windows on three sides of the living room one had the feeling of living inside a snow globe.

Four hours later the view is cloaked in snowfall

The ground took on a glazed look and before long the red rocks towering outside the back door looked sifted with powdered sugar.  Soon the ground was hidden under a few inches of soft billowed snow and the upper sides of the tree boughs became covered in white.  First the firs and spruce with their closely spaced needles caught and kept the snow, but now the ponderosas are clutching the flakes as well.  The red rocks have become almost totally hidden and every so often there’s a mini-avalanche.

Stellar's jay tests the insulative properties of feathers

We are three hours into a storm predicted to last well into tomorrow, and we seem to be getting over an inch an hour.  Some birds persist at the feeder; the mountain chickadees have outlasted the Stellar’s jays and white-breasted nuthatches, though the juncos bravely left their ground feeding ways and tried the feeders for a bit.  The sky continues to darken though it is early afternoon.  The colored Christmas lights hung on the deck are cloaked with snow.

Despite the decades of history on this site my husband says he could count the number of times he’s seen this big a snow storm here on one hand.  The old cabin was not built to be comfortable in these conditions, and with temperatures falling from below freezing towards single digits a trip to the outhouse would have taken some serious thought.  Despite the storm our wood burning stove is easily keeping us warm in this tight snug cabin.  We’ve books to read, games to play, puzzles to work, lots of good food and good wine, and a genuine winter wonderland outside to watch.  We are well on the way to being snowed in, and having everyone else be snow out -- a wonderful experience with the one you love best.  We couldn’t be happier.

Best winter storm strategy

Fabulous First Stay

Same view as banner photo above, but with snow and a cabin!

We had an amazing first stay in the finished cabin.  It is more beautiful than we could have anticipated and while Mother Nature massively challenged us with a serious winter storm, the incredibly well built snug cabin handled it magnificently, allowing us to stay warm only using the wood burning stove.  Briefly, it is more wonderful than we could have imagined and to realize this dream and live inside its reality was overwhelming.  We are thrilled -- exhausted, but thrilled.

Welcome home!
The wreath a gift delivered by ATV by our good friends across the lake

There will be several posts about this inaugural stay in the cabin, but we worked ourselves to near exhaustion and drove 900 miles in the last two days, so here are a few photos to whet your appetite with more to follow soon.  Enjoy.  We certainly did.

The view from the loft the day after arrival...

...and a week after arrival

We hope you too had a joyous Christmas and a very Happy New Year

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 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...