In one afternoon, we traveled from Sturgeon Bay to Green Bay, dropped off all our un-essentials, and scurried up the 3 hours to Gabe’s folks cabin in Wabeno, Wisconsin. I’ve been to this place a handful of times throughout our relationship–high school and beyond. Some absolutely insane times occurred on this 3-acre lot we now get to call home for the summer. Many of you readers have enjoyed the same experiences. The cabin is butt-up against the Nicolet National Forest as well as a private lake stacked with scaly beauts. The gifts are abundant in the form of slow time and migratory birds for our eager eyes.
Seasons show their true colors this side of Highway 10. Yet Forrest County lags behind Southern Wisco by about 30 days. Spring buds differently here. Somewhat how I would guess mountain dwellers experience it. The temp stays just below freezing until the sun hits the open field and then things start to toast. The warming is different from the West as the moisture holds the remainder of last night’s chill about an hour or two more then lifts like a veil at lunchtime time.
Albert and Holly Park bought this property in 2004. They completely flipped the original two car garage into a functional, homey 2 bedroom/1 bath with a storage space, kitchen, living room, and screened-in porch. It’s a combination of modern tech, meets nature finds, meets precious familial artifacts, meets Navajo intricate weavings. The wood-burning stove is always ablaze and the CD collection is also pretty fire.
The lake is 75 yards, give or take, from the backdoor and you better believe Gabe is sitting on a boat as I type with a fly in the water. Within the first two and a half days of being here he’s hooked black crappies, northern pike, and smallmouth bass. The unspoken word around the lake is crappies are an occasional delicacy that may be shared at your table but everything else goes back in the water. And you better believe you’re being watched.
The last couple of days for me have circled around creating some sort of routine. I tend to be one of those that falls short of time when there is plenty. I need a list to keep my mind on track and dreams to keep me even and looking forward. Lately, everything feels like a ceremonial gesture saturated in mystical thinking. It might just be my super sentimentality in full swing or my hyperactive brain waves seeking refuge. Either way the spring peepers awoke just as I blew out my Beldamia candle, signifying a practice session end. Now, there can be calm.
A Homegoing 