In September 1969, Dick and I began our year in the wilderness on the edge of the BWCAW in the Superior National Forest. Our small cabin had neither road access nor amenities. This is a reprint of one of many stories about our lives during that special year.
I awoke one April morning and decided it was a good day to clean up the “grounds” around our cabin. When I looked outside, the skies were blue; the air felt warm and summer seemed just around the corner.
Recent weather had not been great. Several nights before, a powerful rush of wind had filled the air with creaking, cracking ice noises as it created ridges and cracks in the lake ice and the next morning, we knew without question that it was time to retire the snowmobile and travel overland until the lake was open.
The heavy wind was followed by two snowstorms that turned the world into a winter wonderland. This white Christmas look was so depressing that I busied myself with the “used” furniture brought from Minneapolis. I set the metal cabinet against the kitchen wall and filled it with extra matches, egg beaters, toothpicks and odds and ends. I hung the pretty white and blue ceramic clock we inherited from Dick’s grandmother on the knotty pine wall where it cheerfully ticked off the minutes.
I needn’t have worried about the heavy snow because several days of 70 degree temperatures and it was gone. Now, as I pulled on work gloves, I decided it was a perfect day for outside work.
I picked up pieces of kindling while Dick tidied the log pile. I gathered scattered birch bark bits for the wood stove, cut overhanging underbrush on our footpath to the lake and also swept the “outhouse” path of old pine needles and fallen spruce branches.
Dick built a small boardwalk over the low, wet area in the path behind the cabin. I admired his workmanship as he finished the little bridge. “I think I’ll plant my garden right here.” I pointed to the west of the walkway.
Above, a red squirrel scurried up and down the white pine trunk, busy with its spring cleaning. A great zest for life swept over me, and the possibilities seemed endless—new beginnings, new plans, fresh starts. Anything seemed possible this beautiful day.
Returning to my chores, I was busily sweeping the deck when the first mosquito of the year appeared and bit my arm. Even that didn’t mar this lovely day with its blue April skies. Later, the warm afternoon sun brought out flocks of orange and brown butterflies.
Nooky, the malamute, rustled in the underbrush near the lakeshore and finally, startled a swimming beaver. It slapped its tail with an explosive crack and disappeared underwater. Terrified by the loud noise, Nooky tucked tail between legs and ran behind the cabin. But even her spirits weren’t daunted long on this glorious afternoon. Eventually, she forgot her fears and began chasing butterflies.
That night turned cool, the way April evenings do, and that night, all three of us slept soundly, thanks to all the fresh air.
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