Cabin Life

I live in a cabin. Sometimes, life creeps by slowly, allowing you to soak up every second of every day, however savory or unsavory it may be.

Sometimes, life, as we all know it, is crazy, and I am thankful that I only have 500 square feet to clean (a small space can only get so messy... right?).

Somehow, between the leaky faucets, cold winters, old appliances and endless bugs, this is the place I hold dear and the humble structure I call home.

Every day I wake up to a ceiling made of wood planks and walls of lincoln logs that give the illusion of being on a vacation. Every evening I come home to a breathtaking sunset on the lake.

As I light the old gas stove with a lighter and make my favorite low-cost, low-effort meal of spaghetti, I consider myself blessed.

The house feels comfy, old and wise. Even on the coldest of winter nights, sitting bundled up by the fireplace, it feels strangely warm.

It has quietly urged me to live simpler, work harder and be more responsible. It gives me time to think, time to read and time to relax.

It has taught me to be patient. It has taught me to be thrifty. It has taught me that life has more meaning than the "American Dream".

It is a place to gather family. A place to have deep conversations with my closest friends. It is a getaway for out-of-town family.

It is the place I call home.




What things make up the places you call home?