Ten New Things Learned in September

There is a common thread running through this month’s list. You will see what I’ve been focusing on learning lately.

  1. Our front yard has a creature in it. It’s a vole. I’ve never seen one of those before.

2. A friend showed us these inflatable solar lights from REI. Sounds like a great way to not use propane at the cabin, but the lights themselves run from about $30-$50, depending on the size. Inflatable!?!

3. Glucose Revolution by Jessie Inchauspé is a book that has inspired me to change the way I eat. It is well-researched, well-written, and makes a ton of sense. Here it is on ThriftBooks (I got my copy at the library).

4. CACHE is starting a new quest to gather money to have longer hours. Their attempts to secure grants have been unsuccessful, so they will be asking 300 people to give $100/year for two years in order to be open more hours. This makes much more sense to me: the local people who care will be more involved if they feel responsible for helping to keep it running. You should see the museum now—it is fabulous, nothing like the normal small town history museums! CACHE = Center for Arts, Culture, & History, Exeter, and their website is here: CACHE

5. I learned how to transfer a pattern from a picture on the computer to a life-size outline on a wall.

6. Xylitol is a zero calorie sweetener made from the bark of birch trees. (Birch trees?? Who figured this out?) It is supposed to work on a 1:1 exchange with sugar in baking (too expensive for me!), and the reviews are mixed. Glucose Revolution says it might still spike your glucose (how?? why??); other sources say it is a great substitute without side effects. I think it tastes better than stevia (but I still prefer real sugar, so there!)

7. Monk fruit (what in the world?) is the favored non-sugar sweetener these days. I haven’t tried it yet.

8. Currants are difficult to pick, and when you run them through a juicer, they make orange goo rather than juice. If you want to make jelly, pick way way way more than you think you need, boil them awhile, then mash them in a colander for a long time to let the juice appear. Or, you can dig a hole in your garden and bury the entire mess.

9. Did you know that buffalo are classified as bovines? I didn’t know either, until they were listed as possible subjects to enter into the current exhibit at CACHE, called “A Bovine State of Mind”.

10. I heard somewhere that only 18% of Americans now attend church regularly. I’m not sure how “regularly” is actually defined here; I go native/rogue/heathen in the summer, and then attend regularly when the cabin is closed for the year. I love my church.

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty-two (Finale)

Cabin Life: Final Thoughts

Someone’s Colorado cabin –definitely not small, rustic or rude

This is a backcountry cabin somewhere in Montana.

This rest of this post features drawings of Wilsonia cabins, where I spent 4 summers learning about that cabin community and discovering many common themes to the Mineral King community.

There are three distinct parts to cabin-ness:

  1. The building itself – small, rustic, basic, simple, often without electronic amenities. (But wait! What about the cabin pictured above?)
  2. The setting – rural, semi-secluded, in the mountains, taking an effort to get to (But wait! Have you ever been up Highway 180 to Wilsonia? And do these cabins look semi-secluded to you?)

     

A Wilsonia road

 

 

 

A Wilsonia neighborhood

The culture—slower, focused on people instead of technology; a place to play, recreate and relax, mostly outside; a place where meals and fireplaces become events in and of themselves; returning to nostalgic pastimes either of our youth or of some idealized youth of our parents and grandparents.

 

Outdoor dining is a big part of cabin life.

 

Napping is a regular method of relaxing at a cabin.

 

See? Outdoor dining area

 

Even outdoor cooking!

Fireplaces are a huge part of cabin culture.

 

Eat and run??

It seems that the culture part is the strongest determining factor of cabin life. Some of our cabin neighbors gathered in another location for several summers, due to illness of one of their group. One of them told me, “We do Mineral King things in Seattle, and Mineral King is present with us there.” (I probably paraphrased it beyond all recognition – Forgive me, Sawtooth Six!)

Thus, we conclude our 2023 series on Cabin Life. (unless I think of something else)

P.S. Most of the drawings in this post are part of the book The Cabins of Wilsonia, available here.

P.P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty-one

Thoughts on Cabins from a friend

A dear friend of many years, Natalie, sent these thoughts, titled “What a Cabin Means to Me”. (Nat, I did a tiny bit of editing – hope it clarifies rather than changes your intent.)

  1. Secluded from the general public and hard to get to
  2. In the mountains
  3. Small and rustic, having only basic amenities, and no room for isolation.
  4. Not a second home, but more of a make-do-and-relax kind of place where there is no television or phone service. A place where you interact with family and friends by sharing meals, playing cards and other games, sitting by a fire, hiking, and just cherishing the quietness of the outdoors.

Once again, mountains, small, rustic, games, firesides, food, outdoors, friends and family appear. I think Natalie’s ideal cabin would separate her family from outside influences, causing togetherness among themselves. This is a theme I found multiple times. . . a desire to unplug and simplify in order to focus on the ones who are most precious.

Our Mineral King cabin is definitely a cabin but varies from Natalie’s thorough and excellent definition in several ways.

  1. It is a second home to us, but not in the sense of a home with all the luxuries you may be accustomed to (our first home is purposely lacking a dishwasher, microwave, “smart” gadgets, garbage disposal or heated towel racks; we’re just fine, but thanks for your concern).
  2. The cabin no longer has a telephone, but we borrow the neighbors’ to check our messages on the home answering machine.
  3. Neither one of us likes to play games; in the evenings we listen to the radio, Trail Guy reads out-of-date newspapers that friends bring up to him, I read library books and knit.

There is no single definition of “cabin”, but there is a feel to a place that makes it a cabin. I will share a few more ideas about it tomorrow. Then, maybe I will be finished with this topic. (No promises, because after all, my business is called Cabin Art.)

So, according to Natalie, a cabin is a small, poorly-constructed, primitive, one-story hut in the woods where everyday life is distant, and we gather to laugh with family and play board games while a fire keeps us warm. (If you have a giant log mansion on a lake somewhere, then you will have to edit this description to fit your idea of what constitutes “cabin”.)

P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Cabin Life, Chapter Twenty

Mineral King Cabin Community

Mineral King cabin folks come from cities, suburbs, small towns and out in the country; we live in mansions, estates, apartments, and even a few normal houses. We are (or were) artists, bankers, equipment operators, janitors, teachers, farmers, administrative assistants, engineers, retirees, dental hygienists, sheriffs, lawyers, doctors, cowboys, builders, day care workers, musicians, optometrists, veterinary assistants, physical therapists, moms, Park employees, physician’s assistants, and those are just the first ones that come to mind. We come from Arizona, California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Virginia, New York, Hawaii, Florida, South Dakota, and Egypt. (And more places that I can’t remember. . .)

Our Mineral King cabins, AKA “small, poorly constructed huts in the woods”, are great equalizers.

Every one of us, regardless of our backgrounds, livelihoods, economic, educational or political status, is thrilled to have a small, poorly constructed hut in the woods without electricity. Every cabin has a barely adequate kitchen, a laughably tiny (or no) bathroom, maybe two, one, even no bedrooms.

Every single cabin user has to figure out how to deal with unreliable water, peculiar propane appliances, old stuff that may or may not work, and the definite lack of a maintenance department, hardware or grocery store. There is a terrible road to get there, rodents, spiders and other wildlife that may or may not be appreciated, and all sorts of unexpected situations. (Who left this chair and what happened to my flashlight??  Does anyone have any birthday candles? What’s wrong with this place that has no outlets? Are you serious that I cannot blow-dry my hair?)

Every single cabin that is owned by multiple families has its conflicts, whether decorating, cleaning, maintaining, or scheduling. The cabins without partnerships have to bear all the expenses, decisions, maintenance and cleaning without benefit of sharing the load.

Whether folks have complicated lives in fancy places or plainer lives in simpler places, all view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a bit of an inconvenience, but still a huge treat, their own treasured shabby shack in the mountains.

We have fought together against bureaucracy, helped one another, hiked together, learned one another’s family trees, and through it all we have built multi-generational friendships weekend upon weekend, year after year after decade after decade. And I am just a newcomer. . .

P.S. I can draw your cabin (or house or barn or garage or shed or hut or cottage or mansion) because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

Cabin Life, Chapter Nineteen

What is a Cabin?

You may have noticed that some posts about art are beginning to be regular interruptions to our series called “Cabin Life”. My art business is waking back up after a semi-comatose summer. 

So, let’s wrap up this topic with some final posts. These are a rerun from 2018, but maybe you have slept since then, or maybe you didn’t read my blog back then.

Wilsonia cabin porchWhat is a Cabin?

In 1986 I married into a Mineral King cabin. I’d always wanted either a cabin or a beach house. Here in Tulare County, cabins are more available and accessible than beach houses. It has worked out well, even to the point that my art business is called Cabin Art. (Or Cabinart. . . for a Typo-Psycho, I am awfully ambivalent about the spelling of this invented word.)

One would think that I would know how to define the word “cabin”. Alas, one would be wrong about that!

We had an old dictionary at the cabin, so I looked up “cabin”. The 3rd definition said, “A small, rude hut”. Clearly the word “rude” has changed in meaning since the dictionary was published in 1935. I looked up “rude” and saw “Poorly constructed”.

Alrighty, then. A cabin is a small, poorly constructed hut.

But is it? 

I looked up “cabin” on my Mac. The dictionary on my computer has fairly useless definitions as far as our discussion is concerned.

Cabin may refer to:

  • Beach cabin, a small wooden hut on a beach
  • Log cabin, a house built from logs
  • Chalet, a wooden mountain house with a sloping roof
  • Small remote mansion (Western Canada)
  • Small, free-standing structures that serve as individual lodging spaces of a motel
  • Cottage, a small house

We called this The Beach House while growing up; never once did the word “cabin” enter our little skulls.

Forget that. Where’s my real Webster’s dictionary?? Mine was published in 2004 rather than 1935. Oh good grief, look at this: “A small, simple, one-story house.”

That’s it? Au contraire! (Is that how you say “You are wrong” in French?)

In 2018, a few folks checked in with their thoughts on what a cabin is. One suggested “primitive”; another said a place to get away from every day life; someone else put forth the idea that a cabin is a state of mind. “Non-fancy” is a good description, and another added gave a description of an ideal cabin. She used the word “spare”, which could mean an extra home or it could mean without clutter. (I’ve seen some pretty cluttered cabins, and I have lived in a cabin when it was my only place of residence.)

To be continued. . . (and your thoughts are welcome!)

P.S. I can draw your cabin (or house) because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

 

Ten Items Learned in August

August is a long month, and the new information kept coming, so instead of the usual 7 or 8 items, this month there are 10: Elvis, a couple of books, some poems, and other fascinating facts for you!

  1. Elvis was naturally blond but he dyed his hair black. I read this in Bill O’Reilly’s Killing the Legends, which I didn’t finish because A. I don’t have an interest in celebrities and B. it was very depressing. (Why did I start it? Just normal curiosity, which often leads me to check out books that I don’t finish.)
  2. Trails develop cracks. When the cracks are lateral (running the length of the trail), it means the ground was super saturated and the snow weight was substantial. Repairing such cracks before the trail sloughs away requires some real hard work.
  3. A1C. Ick. Would prefer not to know. Would prefer to live on ice cream. However, I am a responsible adult and have been diligently paying attention to what I consume in order to lower that number before it becomes a problem. Essentially, forgoing sweets simply makes me feel both righteous and perpetually dissatisfied.
  4. The Art of Frugal Hedonism is a fun book, written by two Australians. I didn’t finish this one either, but enjoyed the turn of phrase. (Phooey, wish I had copied a few down to share with you.)
  5. I helped a friend get an extremely heavy piece of black oak for his wordworking hobby. He used some of it to make this turned wooden bowl for me. It is about 6″ in diameter, maybe even 8″. It is perfect to hold my Very Important Items at the cabin.*
  6. That slanted side pocket on Carhartt pants is so that things won’t fall out when you sit down. The tall part of the slant is in the back.
  7. Two little poems about the size of Texas: The sun has riz/The sun has set/And here we is/
    In Texas yet!
    —
    Oh, the distances in Texas aren’t so very far.
    We’ve driven from border to border and only wore out one car!
  8. Did you know there is a trend called “restocking“? It is people repackaging consumable items into pretty containers and arranging everything to be aesthetically pleasing in their pantries, refrigerators, linen closets, etc. Then they film themselves doing this along with the results and post it online. WHY??? Do they expect to get rich and famous? Maybe they ought to learn to do something useful instead, real work, like plumbing or welding.
  9. 105.5 FM is called The Legend and plays classic country music. (I cannot define “classic” but am guessing it means music older than about 10 years, or is it 20. . .?) I think it is based in Fresno. You can play “name that tune”, or “name that artist”, but they don’t seem to have a real DJ to tell you what you have heard or are about to hear. 
  10. At a recent “happy hour” gathering, some friends wanted to supply me with something non-alcoholic to drink (not because I was getting sloppy, but because I don’t drink alcohol). They introduced me to this stuff: Lagunitas Hoppy Refresher. It wasn’t bad; it fits right there with all those sparkly nothing drinks like La Croix.

 

*camera, sunglasses, and keys, if I happened to drive up the hill rather than hitchhike** or go with Trail Guy.

**Just kidding! I often catch a ride with a neighbor heading up, but have never stuck out my thumb.

Cabin Life, Chapter Eighteen

Old Work

A number of years ago (feels like five, so it is probably ten), the head law enforcement ranger in Mineral King decided that the Spring Creek footbridge shouldn’t be installed when the water was splashing onto it because it might be slippery. Never mind that the bridge has a hand rail; never mind that people were building weird little crossings all over the place; never mind that people found where the bridge was stored and dragged it into a precarious position without properly installing it; never mind that crossing became more treacherous with all these make-do solutions.

When Trail Guy worked Maintenance in Mineral King, he was one of the bridge installers each year. In The Year of No Bridge, he, along with some neighbors, decided to bypass the bureaucratic baloney.

This year, the very accommodating and capable trail crew installed the bridge as a thank you to Trail Guy for volunteering so much time to opening the road and repairing the sinkhole.

They rightly assumed that we would be capable of using the handrail if we needed a bit more help while crossing.

More Work

I love to do what I have deemed “waterology”. This means that I direct water off roads and trails whenever I can. I don’t mind standing in icy water, flinging rocks, yanking branches, digging more rocks and mud, and redirecting the water in order to prevent further erosion.

First, we worked on Chihuahua in mid-June. This is usually a nothing-burger of a little trickle. Not this year! Trail Guy and friends built a bridge.

Hiking Buddy and I returned later with a rake and got much of the flow off the trail and road. Chihuahua is just above the pack station, so there is a road almost all the way to it. Shortly after we finished, the very capable and hard-working trail crew filled in the deep crevices on the road made by the raging water.

The next week, Trail Guy and I tackled the problem of Crystal Creek, which was raging down the trail and even creating a pond in the middle of one section of trail.

You will still get your feet wet crossing the very very wide Crystal Creek. Oops: you would if you were allowed to go to Mineral King. I’m sorry for mentioning this.

I just walk through in my trusty All Terrain Crocs.

Yeppers, just standard issue Waterologist footwear.

P.S. I can draw your cabin because. . .

. . . using pencils, oil paints, and murals, I make art you can understand, of places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.