I've gotten very good at packing the car with all the materials, tools, and supplies for the wool project. I can fit in twelve (12) of the file boxes, plus wheel, prep tools, food, and suitcase. For the current trip, which involves a final push to the deadline, I've had to resort to storing the wool packages themselves in large bags that will squish in around the other items.
This is my third trip away from home to work on The Project. I know exactly how things fit, and anyone who's read about the previous trips will recognize the basic Tetris-like results.
And I do leave the driver's seat available for me.
Each trip, I've gone to a different location, new to me. Twice (including this time) I have shared the space and rental costs with two other writers. This time, I went up a day early for several reasons. The plan was to call the cabin's caretaker from the road so she could meet me with the key and give me the overview of well and stove operations.
Here's the road to where I am this week (through the windshield):
I called from about here, because cell service tends to be patchy (at best) in the mountains. I was still about 45 minutes away.
Here's the cabin, which is about 4 miles (6.5 km) past where the county-road pavement ends:
Here's the driveway to the cabin:
The caretaker hadn't arrived by the time I got there, so I walked around a little bit . . . and realized I was being greeted (or warned off) from inside:
In order not to further alarm the dog, I continued my explorations away from the house, which seems to be located in a high-traffic area.
This looked familiar and comforting:
Softwood, but that's what we can get around here. Slab wood, which is economical. Well chopped, which is handy.
I won't have much time this week for admiring my surroundings, so I caught this photo:
And this one:
I'd love to come back some time when I don't have work due on a deadline. I did bring snowshoes, in case one of us needs to get out and there's no other way, and the caretaker showed me not only the ins-and-outs of the cabin (and introduced me to its guardian) but told me about great cross-country, snowshoe, and hiking trails. However, I'm inside this week, except for the occasional walk to clear my brain (and regular trips to the woodpile; softwood burns fast, even in a good Vermont Castings stove, a smaller model of the stove we used to heat one of the Massachusetts houses we lived in).
And now I'd better get to work.
Special thanks to all the members of my family and to the fellow writers who are sharing the space who have made it possible for me to be here this week, and to Carrie and her folks, who are letting us make ourselves at home here.