AUGUST 12, 2019 – Yesterday, my wife and I continued preparations for 112 guests at our cabin. Nothing else makes the mind so single minded. Among my assignments: cleaning up the writing table in the “scriptorium,” which has become a guestroom.
The surface of my desk, which I’d built years ago out of beautiful, reclaimed pine, was no longer visible. In fully junk riot were parts and detritus of myriad projects, practical and whimsical, along with stacks of books, pens, and what-nots.
Initially I considered dumping everything into boxes and shoving them into the already crowded “junk room.” But a guy isn’t serious about cleaning if he simply dumps junk into a junk room. At a minimum he has to put junk in a closet.
When we built our place, I was assigned a closet in the main bedroom. Unfortunately, the closet has become a storage compartment for loose junk, cabin clothes I never wear, and a bunch of banker boxes. Time to consolidate to make room for the junk piled on the desk downstairs.
Upon removing the banker boxes, I exposed some long-forgotten things. I was soon inspecting the contents of a veritable time capsule.
I found a model airplane kit; a wooden door handle I’d carved years ago; a batch of souvenir pennants; a philatelist’s magnifying glass; a Chuck Mangione album; a pile of books, including Dante’s Divine Comedy in mint condition; and an old, unfinished project of mine.
The project consisted of (a) a 7” x 5” piece of birchbark tacked to a thin board; and (b) a kind of poem I’d hand-printed on lined paper, which was temporarily clamped to the birchbark. The idea was to use a nail to punch a series of holes over each stroke of each letter on the paper, thus transcribing the “poem” onto the birchbark. I’d planned to frame it and hang it where my wife might permit somewhere inside the cabin.
She’s been working hard preparing the place for the 112 guests. I think I’ve been working hard too, but I also think I shouldn’t be thinking that, at least when compared to my wife’s efforts. Nevertheless, as we catch our breath before guests start arriving next Friday, we need to remind ourselves of what’s intended for the birchbark that I pulled out of the closet time capsule:
I LIKE IT HERE BECAUSE . . .
Of fond memories—
Friends and family, games and talk, meals and s’mores.
It’s where the white pine grow tallest, maples, the reddest;,
Where summer winds fill my sails and heavy snows bring out my skis;
Where projects never end.
It’s quiet and beautiful, and
Everywhere’s a painting, everchanging with the weather, the seasons,
The time of day, the time of life.
It’s where we read and play, swim and gaze at stars.
It’s where loon pairs laugh and eagles fly, where songbirds sing.
Quite simply, it’s the place to be (with 4,426 varieties of insects
Some biting, some beautiful, some as big as birds, but not enough in cabin
cobwebs).
© 2019 Eric Nilsson
