Zen Discovery part 3
September 28, 2011, 7:05 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

I am awakened an hour early this morning by a loud hard rain.  It rains so hard that I decided to arise from between my soft sheets and close some windows.  Usually, I ignore closing windows when it rains on Black Cat Cabin because the floor boards are made from the sides of an old barn or something or brick (as in the sun room and kitchen) and they lack the danger of ruination from rain-water spitting in through the screens.  But this morning the wind was blowing a bit as well and I feared damage to my furniture, journals, magazines or other items placed nearby.


The combination of sounds from chirping crickets, residual raindrops hitting the tin roof underneath the northern window of my bedroom combined with the occasional grumble of distant thunder, flash from its accompanying lightening and a middle ground humidity heavy temperature that keeps me too warm or too cool for comfort cheats me from enjoying the last hour of my needed rest.  So I will finish telling the story of how my daughter and I came to live in this unconventional dwelling….


Four days after my Honey and I make a drive-by viewing of the cabin, we find ourselves back in Charlottesville with realtor O driving all over the area to look at possible landing spots for S and myself.  It is important to My Honey and me that he be a part of this decision as we are planning our future together and for the time we will be apart until he can move to the area himself, he wants to have a vision of my surroundings – I just want him to be part of the decision making process as I have had many years of making big decisions alone and desire the experience of making a decision with the person who is committed to me and future together.


Black Cat Cabin is our first stop.  We drive 15 minutes from town through a succession of idyllic horse farms, rolling green hills dotted with grazing thoroughbreds and gracious mansions of varying designs. A flash of excitement runs through me as we make our way down the longish gravel drive past a sign requesting visitors to drive slowly to avoid roaming animals, right at the fork dividing the drive from the way to the big house vs to the barn and the cabin.  We are parked in front of the big house and must search for someone as our knock at the front door is unanswered.  P is in the back garden dressed in what looks like an oversized T-shirt and a pair of brown oversized sweatpants cut into short-shorts and belted at the waist creating a gathered effect resembling some rustic medieval garment.  She is tiny, leathery and has a Peter Pan gone wild hair cut.  She informs us in her clear drawn out voice that sounds the pitch of a sheep bleating without the resonance, that she will get B, her husband who will show us the cabin and she disappears up the wide back steps up to the kitchen.


B shows us the cabin through an ongoing commentary about the farm, the cabin and its elements. He is polite with twinkling blue eyes and a Connecticut nasal tone to his speech.  My Honey and I course through the 1800 square feet of rooms with delight marveling at the simple eccentricity of the place, the rustic combined with the elegant.  Rough hewn beams extend at the base of high ceilings, brass chandeliers hang in the main rooms over rustic wide planed wood floors, stone fireplaces in the bedrooms and kitchen- it simply oozes charm though there are ample bugs, plenty of cobwebs, no air-conditioning and I can already see myself freezing in winter despite the electric base board heat and old fashioned cast iron wood stove in the great room. But there are no structures in sight from the back of the house- only rolling green hills, trees, some white fence.  There are horses and two ponds and plenty of space to roam. My Honey and I envision ourselves snuggled up together on cold weekend nights, in a warm bed with a fire crackling in bedroom fireplace -so romantic. It is irresistible.


After seeing the other choices and nixing three of the five, my Honey and I sit down at a coffee shop in the mall to decide to whom I should write a deposit check, the generic yet clean and relatively bug free three bedroom apartment on the third floor of the big apartment complex a few blocks from S’s school or the erratic Black Cat Cabin with the access to nature and quirky landlords?  We talk it over comparing and contrasting.  I call S’s father to get his reactions- it is his daughter’s home as well and he should be comfortable with it.  I call S at camp and get her opinion, “I want to live in the log cabin,” she informs me with conviction.  My heart tells me the same.  All the important parties agree.  The next day I bring the deposit check to B.



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