Open Doors

When I first saw the little cabin in the woods, the ark, I fell in love with it right away. It's strong -- handcrafted by a German engineer -- but humble, too.

As the real estate agent walked us through, I think she was nervous to show it. "It's a little . . . sparse," she kept saying.

But we weren't looking for marble bathrooms and granite kitchens and tons of square footage. The wind blowing through the pine needles . . . the forever green backdrop . . . the families of deer drinking from the rain garden . . . these were my idea of luxury. As far as the cabin itself, I was completely smitten with its wood burning fireplace, writer's loft, square windows, and outdoor deck, perfect for reading, watching the sunrise, or taking in a lightening storm.

Yet despite the fact that I adore its simple nature, there are a couple items I will replace one day. Like our 1920s fridge. Kidding. I'm sure it's from at least the 30s. Think I could actually get any money for selling this "antique?"

And check out the bottom of this bathroom sink. I call it the Oscar the Grouch sink because every time I use it I feel like the furry green monster is going to pop right out.

It's been great learning the ins and outs of this home so intimately. And best of all, I've been able to write, write, write. One day, maybe as soon as next summer, these doors will open a bit wider. I'm not sure what form that will take (hosting a writing workshop, opening it for individual retreat, etc.), but I know something wonderful will unfold. Maybe Big Bird will come to visit.