I'm heading to the cabin tonight with Marc, Happy, and hopefully Marc's dog Casey, as well. Is that how you spell Casey? I'll be back on the 1st.
I feel like I'm in dire need of fresh air, wood smoke, and a storm. Sometimes in winter the wind sprays ocean up over the rocks, coating the windows with wet salt and hitting the canvas tarp stretched over the deck doors. Then the cabin is a ship. I love that.
On the other hand, if it's as mild on the island as it's been here, there will be more walks to the lighthouse and the eagle's nest. We can take the tarp down and let the dogs out to chase each other, and to chase deer, and sniff out things to roll in.
You can see I'm looking forward to it. Happy just growled in her sleep. I should think about packing.
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Happy cabining Claire et Marc! I shall see thee anonymously.
So jealous of the cabins, by the way. Where's my bloody cabin? Really, family. Hop to it. We needs us a country home for when the plague strikes and we need to escape the pustulating plebs.
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