MAY 28, 2019 – This past weekend, my wife and I worked from dawn to dusk getting our cabin and grounds prepared for our younger son’s wedding late in August. In rain and shine we worked.
En route home, I came up with this multiple choice test:
Ultimately, what is ownership of a lake cabin?
(a) Fun and relaxation;
(b) Extra yard work;
(c) Spending money you don’t have;
(d) None of the above.
* * *
The answer is . . . (d), because what owning a lake cabin involves first, foremost, and always is science.
Sure, you can drink brewskis on the dock, snooze in the hammock, and go for a late afternoon cruise aboard the pontoon boat—all after you’ve tidied up the yard, raking last fall’s crop of fallen leaves.
However, why do you need to replace the bolts in the dock frame? Science—in the form of oxidation, which produces ferrous oxide, commonly known as rust. And let me tell you, it you think the dock bolts need replacing, let me show you the pruning saw that got left out in the rain after you trimmed those dead branches that had been blocking your view.
Why is the hammock netting that used to be white now turning green? Again, science—this time in the form of mold, mildew or algae, which, if you hadn’t noticed, is what makes the back steps so slippery.
What’s to blame for the prop of the pontoon motor hitting the rocks? Yet again, science—this time, the most recent ice age, which ended roughly 10,000 years ago. Much more recent ice, together with a strong wind (caused by a temperature differential in colliding air masses), is what piled up big, immovable stones along your shore right where your dock is usually installed.
My mother used to complain that the family cabin required so much maintenance. My dad, being very project-oriented, and armed with at least 4,000 tools, loved the cabin because it required so much maintenance. For her the cabin was hell. For him the cabin was heaven.
Me? Until the ride home this weekend, I lived in purgatory: I knew full well the need for maintenance but denied that it had to be done before its time. As my wife snoozed and I drove, I contemplated all the maintenance that thanks to the wedding, could no longer be deferred.
About five miles south of Spooner, WI (that’s a small town on the way home), I decided to “go creative” and adopt a fresh new approach to maintenance. I’ll call it “laboratory science” instead of “laborious maintenance.” I’ll look at the cabin and grounds as a vast, science laboratory featuring on-going biology, chemistry, and physics experiments. I’ll revel in this boundless classroom, where I’ll roll up my sleeves and interact with science and the forces of nature, from wind and weather to critters and chemical reactions; from H2O and ultra-violet rays to the universe of micro-organisms.
If my dad was Mr. Maintenance, I’m going to be Mr. Science!
© 2019 Eric Nilsson
