The reward at the end of the eight hour drive is immediate. I pry myself out of the cramped car and stand up in the soft needles splayed across the dirt driveway, feel the breeze enfold my bare arms and listen to the sighing trees. No visual cues are needed. Based on these lesser senses alone, I know that I am now officially on vacation. So do the dogs. They joyfully sniff their more pungent smells, scramble out of the car and rush around our legs.
There are no lights on in the family cabin in front of us, so I use the car lights to guide us in. Nick and I each dump a couple of loads in the mud room – luggage, fishing rods, hiking gear, dog food, and a loose collection of books, magazines and crossword puzzles. It isn’t until I start moving the luggage into the living room that I notice the note from my brother on the kitchen counter.
“It looks like a squirrel has found its way into the cabin, probably through the utility closet. We couldn’t catch it before we left. Good luck.” Continue reading
Follow Liza Blue on:
Share:
