August 11, 2018
August marks the anniversary of my move "home" thirty-seven years ago. Back in the day, I'd married and moved several miles away. I found living in a town a miserable experience and was looking for a building lot in the country. My grandparents would have none of me spending thousands of dollars on a piece of property. They handed me the deed to three acres they owned behind their house and I gratefully came home. I've been here ever since.
I like my little house in the woods, but every so often I wish I'd done things differently all those years ago. My heart longs for a log cabin. It would have been perfect in my woods, surrounded by trees. I gravitate toward the dog trot style with its central breezeway.
Of course, being a bit older now, I wonder if having to go back and forth through the breezeway at night when it's snowing would be fun. I'd need some well-insulated sliding barn doors to be comfortable.
Maybe I'd be better off with a small log cabin She-Shed. If I had one of those to help ease me into the next phase of my life (retirement), it might alleviate some of the stress already happening between me and the spousal unit. He's not looking forward to losing his autonomy. I'm not looking forward to having him underfoot all day long. A nice little retreat with Internet out in the "west forty" may be just the thing to give us the space we need.
That's definitely food for thought.
KC Kendricks
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Life through the eyes of Greenbrier Smokey Deuce: deucesday.blogspot.com
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