Your Story: The Cabin

Todd and I visited his aunt at her cabin in the heart of Hocking Hills this past Memorial Day.  I snapped these pictures and thought you’d write a lovely story for me.

Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.  To see previous Your Story posts click on “Story Time” on the right.

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43 responses to “Your Story: The Cabin

  1. I love love love Hocking Hills!!! used to go there when I was a kid! end of story! ha ha ha! Love that place!

  2. its so unsettling, every time I visit Uncle Ed’s cabin, I come back changed somehow. The last time I paid a visit, my balance was off,then I heard voices of angels. colors morphed and shifted to black white and gray, and then back to an unsurpassed vividness. Was it the cabin after all, or was my energy changing the cabin?

  3. The road towards the cabin was green..or was it from the cabin towards city was green and was the cabin that was dull except for the red frame on the window, it was too bright for the otherwise dull wooden planks..just like a red lipstick..inviting and attracting..this was theedge of the window..for people to see through..isn’t it amusing how one window connects two sides..and everything has atleast two and out..wonder how the cabin feels from it dark and gloomy..cracked and holed..does the entire animal knigdom went in and looked around..or just us humans.

  4. After traveling so untiringly on the never-ending road, nothing could be as welcoming as the sight of a cabin whether you are colour-blind or no.

  5. I love the photos. They have an eerie feel to it and it makes me think of a mysterious story set in a cabin in the woods. Not really suspense or horror or any of the like. Just maybe, a missing girl…

  6. Wow what a beautiful cabin in the woods! I would love to live there, how peaceful that would be! Away from the hustle and bustle of the city!

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  8. “I kept looking ahead
    Unsure of the world
    that was hidden from me
    One day I too will see
    what it feels to be
    a part of the colors..”

    with such colorful dreams in my eyes
    I prayed God to give me back my sight….

  9. It sat in the woods on a little knoll, silent and hidden from view
    A shell of how it once appeared, back when it was new
    It was built with tender loving care, as a cozy get-away
    To escape the hustle and bustle, a restful place to stay

    The sound of sweetly singing birds, fish swimming in the brook
    Families of deer wandering there, if anyone bothered to look
    The Crickets softly chirping as the setting sun sinks low
    While the moon rises and stars twinkle in their nightly glow

    The cabin waits for visitors, arriving who knows when
    Fighting off the elements until it hears that din
    Knowing it’s no longer alone, grateful for company
    Its wait is finally over with the arrival of the family

    The sweet sound of birds to start your day, a fish upon your hook
    That family of deer grazing nearby, on that morning hike you took
    Lounging by the fire you built, viewing the stars at night
    Breathing unpolluted air makes everything seem all right

    Hearing the crickets chirping as you slowly drift off to sleep
    So much to do, so much to see, plus promises to keep
    Away from the hustle and bustle, and into the peaceful realm
    To take in the undisturbed serenity, the senses overwhelm

    But one sad day the family left, their destination elsewhere
    So the cabin slowly deteriorates and now sits in disrepair
    A scar upon the landscape, now no one lingers there
    The little cabin that once was has fallen into despair

  10. The Cottage in the Wood

    Amidst the quiet wood, where never the sight of soul is seen,
    where deep within the shadowed story, it seems,
    there no one has been… ever…

    Yet through the tangled brambles and vines wrapped to the dome so high,
    when as the sun is setting soft, a clear rosed beam can aid the eyes –
    and there amidst the quiet wood, it stood… as if a dream…

    A cottage built of stone and stick, wholly swallowed in musty air,
    entangled in the over growth, held in place with loving care –

    Sitting still I gazed awhile until the dusky light let in
    just the slightest edge of truth to the history there within.
    As if enwrapped in elixir’s mirth, the day grew light before my eyes,
    the clinging vines and woods there, resolved in finer lines –

    The cottage path and gated wall, before me clearly stood,
    an entry arch of river stone with coat of arms lined in green wood –
    Walls of stone ran to the corners, set with rose and daffodil,
    while lavender and scattered daisies revealed the caring of this fill –

    The cottage, down a garden path, was set with stone, great beams of wood.
    The porch and gable facings, of dovetail and a mason’s good
    detailing at the window’s ledge.

    Entranced, I rose, afraid to lose this dream state’s blessed gift,
    yet slowly step, did I, toward the gate, silently adrift
    in seas of timeless wonder –

    The gate before me, of ancient wood, stood ajar inviting
    all my senses to freedom’s grin, thus pulled me through with creaked enticing…

    A cobbled garden path before me lay, a quiet welcomed girth,
    twixt rose, gardenia and foxglove blooms,
    fingered sun and fragrant mirth.

    It seemed I floated toward the stoop, whose porch was blessed with swing and peace.
    So there I sat with creaking chains, suspended in this dream so sweet –

    As I sat and gently swayed, a reverent love enrobed me whole,
    the sweetness of a “welcome home” bathed my heart and soul.

    Eon’s may have passed, I fear, but not a fret was mine,
    for from this place where smiled my soul, there was no sense of time –
    but kind the loving left there, by whomever tendered this spot –
    until the porch-side window fed my senses with a chicken pot
    and scent upon the air,
    a longing to “return”,
    within the makings of this home,
    to love and sweetness, I did yearn…

    I left my perch to find the door,
    hand hewn woods and hammered fittings,
    gently knocked and pushed a tad,
    to find myself inside, unwitting…

    The light was golden and struck the sides of ancient dust suspended,
    glittering in its gentle ride, as if for me intended –

    The air was sweet with home cooked love, as if I’d find a stew a-brewing –
    and through the simple rugs and chairs the shadows gently blue-ing.

    A beam of golden sunset light embraced the kitchen’s hearth and stone,
    and as I poked my nose there, no soul was found, but I was not alone –

    Beside the hearth, a graying threshold stood,
    nearly lost within the shadow, unique in hand hewn wood.

    The scent of sweet tobacco beckoned my spirit “enter”,
    and as my eyes began to see, my heart declared its center
    amidst suspended smoke, left from ancient rest,
    with bed and bureau quietly still, at bedside laid two shoes, and vest.

    Upon the night stand, racked in dust, a dustless tin type photo stood –
    a man, a woman, and a dog – at garden’s edge and wood –
    As tho’ I were invited, I raised the photo to my eyes,
    and from their kindest faces, I swear I heard the greenwoods sigh –

    Her hand was wrapped in his, and tho’ they looked out from the frame,
    it felt their eyes were locked on each other by the smiles and kindness lain.
    Her eyes were deep in darkened hues, yet sparkled with a love
    that only could have been for him, by a life blessed from above-
    His were stern and determined, yet gentle in the lines there shown,
    that I could tell his heart was hers, and he, her love alone.
    The dog, a youthful grin portrayed, yet his colours showed him old and grey,
    but this was is home by his look given, and no canine paradise could have beat this heaven –

    It seemed as if I knew these three, the longer that I eyed the frame,
    I felt a longing overcome my soul and knew I would be blessed in same –

    A love so deep that time could not erase,
    and truth so lived that even the woods, in decay, would embrace –
    A soul so satisfied within the living that even long beyond the grave,
    would continue and return with giving.

    I know not how long I stood, or how I managed time –
    but by the moment dusk was done,
    again into the woods went I –

    Witnessed there a lifetime’s mark,
    the love of two and life of giving –
    that stumbled upon in deepest wood,
    did bless this one’s living –

    God bless –

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