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MY CABIN
My childhood cabin was so wonderful, there was no snow or blizzards, just the ever present Florida thunder rand rain storms that visited us much of the time. It was made of plain brown boards and tin penny nails, and tiny spiders built their webs in the corners of the ceiling. My cabin was peaceful and beautiful. When you intered my cabin, the lonlieness and warmth and love just reached out and encircled you in a warm glow, as tho a loving family still lived there. My cabin had sagging shutters and falling down steps, and if you listened closely, you just might hear the sweet voices of long ago ancestors calling to you gently on the breeze, or hear the tinkeling of a tea cup, or hear the sound 0f far away laughter. My cabin had sour orange trees growing around it and the smell of wild Cherokee roses and gardenia bushes and was nestled deep in the sand hills of back woods Florida
I went there often as a child and a teen ager, just to think and to be by myself.It was my refuge My cabin had old plows stored in it and 1910-and 1912 Ladies Home Journal magazines in boxes, how interesting they were, this life of another era. My cabin had a litle pond in front of it, covered with lilly pads, where bull frogs croaked and minnows jumped and you could pick wild flowers of pink and yellow and blue along it's banks.The water was always warm from the sun, and if you waded out you could get delicious mud between your toes. This cabin had been the home of my great aunt and uncle around the turn of the century. This old cabin holds dear and pleasant memories for me and also my father, who remembers the good times had there as a small boy. I let these memories slip back to the surface ever ao often and remember these beautiful and gentle by gone days. Sometimes they seem so near, like you could just reach out your arms anf gather them to you once again.
A TRUE STORY
