FOR SOME REASON I was thinking of "Little House on the Prairie" last night as I sat in the Tahoe. I just got back to the cabin from town. I had gone in to pick up fluids at Ma and Pa’s Grocery Store. "Picking up fluids" is a term used here to mean we were in need of something to drink. Milk, juice and a couple of bottles of soda or pop depending on what you called it when you grew up. The ride into town was cool as it was taking awhile for the Tahoe to warm up. It has a good heater but there is a lot of space there. I used to drive the Dodge pickup a lot in the winter because it had a great heater and not nearly as much space to heat. Trouble there is as the bottom of the doors started to rust away I was losing most of my heat, still a good summer truck as now the rusted doors let in the air like a poor mans air conditioner.
So I pulled into my parking space and I turned the Tahoe off and sat for awhile. I figured I had spent sometime heating the inside of the Tahoe up so I might as well enjoy it. Of course once I turned the key off the power to my heated seat went off and I figured as soon as my backside started to cool off I would gather up my fluids and carry them inside. It was dark but not the same kind of dark that you get in the middle of summer out here in the country. When I pulled in the floodlights clicked on to lite up the path to the cabin but after five minutes they blinked out. Light bleeding out from the cabin window's lite up a circle around the cabin. The snow reflected the light and as I sat my eyes adjusted and I could actually see pretty clearly. Of course my mind already knew where everything was or should be.
I could make out the orange extension cord plugged into the wood shop and the end resting in the handle of a broken snow shovel. When I get out I will plug the Tahoe in as tonight and the next couple of nights are forecasted to be cold cold. The long tube wind chime hanging by the back door was ringing softly, just a soft bong, bong that I may or may not have been really hearing. Icicles hang from the north roof and I made a note to myself I just go knock them down before they get too big. The brown end of the wood tarp hangs over the wood pile, six inches of snow resting on top keeping it from flapping. The one single swing hangs from its chains still in the night. No foot prints going to it as the granddaughters have not been swinging for awhile. The big maple reaches skyward naked. Not even any snow on its branches and it does not look like Edd and Eddie the squirrels are home tonight, Smoke curls from the chimney and heads out over the lake, It just looks cold out to me.
I pull my hat down over my ears and tug my gloves snug. I make sure the keys are in my pocket and I open the door and it is as cold as it looks out. Bags in hand I head to the cabin and the deck flood light blinks on and I see Duncan in the kitchen window, He barks once and disappears only to reappear at the deck door. I let myself in and stomp my feet lightly to get some snow off that I can’t see but I am sure is there. The wife takes the bags and I reach down and give the brown dog a couple of big dog pats on his side. The wife as she walks away to the kitchen asks what I was doing out there and I just tell here "I was just enjoying a moment here at Lake Iwanttobethere"