The moonless night beyond the picture window contrasts with the candles that wash a warm glow on the orange rough-cut pine walls inside the A-frame cabin in a place without a name.
A flock of Canadian geese flews over the wetland before dusk, honking their way south before winter comes to the Upper Midwest, while inside the cabin walls the Toronto Blue Jays had flown south to Minneapolis over the radio to play a ballgame with the Twins. Unlike the Canadian geese, the Blue Jays are going nowhere; the Minnesota Twins are preparing for a long flight to the World Series.
There is something strange about being alone in a remote wilderness cabin without a remote or internet, but some things stay close. Like the radio I bring to listen to the Twins games, and my canine companion Barclay who doesn’t care about the Twins or the radio but does care about candlelight. Barclay had headed for his kennel for the night an hour after the Twins had broken the sacred silence—until the sound of a match drew him back to the sofa to watch the candlelight flicker against the walls.
Sometimes I wish I were a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel instead of a lone silly goose who needs a radio to stay sane in an otherwise silent night in a warm-lit cabin in a place without a name.
By the seventh inning stretch, I’m tired of the Twins game, blow out all the candles, see Barclay to his kennel, and head up the ladder to the loft in the darkness. Only then do I notice the light show beyond the cabin walls: the Northern Lights dancing across the sky, a natural light show no World Series can match. Through the loft window I watch the light that knows nothing of matches, candles, or our whereabouts off the human map.
Sometimes, when awe reduces me to lightening bug, it feels good to be human.
Views from the Edge 
I failed to say “how beautiful.” A wonderful place.
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Thank you.
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Yes, the ingredients are there for serenity, depending, of course, on what you bring with you. I am lucky in that I find escape easily. As long as I am able to recharge my “Nook”… uh oh, no electricity. Tough on my arthritic hands, but with a good novel or other escapist book (Austen, Dickens, Tolkien) I can go anywhere, become anything.
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And a happy Nook to you, CA. Wonderful gift of retreat into Austen, Dickens, et. al.
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Light and sound can be so profound in the absence of any other distractions. Experiencing the Northern Lights is on my bucket list. I’m green with envy.
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Green is good these day. 🤗 Hope your bucket list gets filled soon.
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Thank you for sharing this bit of beauty with us Gordon. Made my day better.
❤️ Nancy
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Nancy, it was a rare joy to behold.
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Beautiful. Maybe alone in a cabin for an extended time wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Thanks for this!
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Solitude is either a recipe for insanity or for sanity amid social madness. In the wake of all the natural disasters, I’ve been looking again at nature and at Tillich’s epigram about nature and humankind’s shared destiny both in their glory and in their tragedy. Last night it was all nature’s glory.
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I think it’s a recipe for sanity. I spend a great deal of time in solitude, when not at work. I don’t have television/cable, so there is no interruption there. This afternoon, I will be joined by two kittens who will share my solitude, just as Barclay shares yours. So, it will be me with Esther and Estelle (gotta love those names they come with), and just maybe a little Tillich – oh and that book by someone I used to know, who I understand is a terrific writer. 🙂
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