the cabin

We're back in New York now, but while we were in Seattle, we hung out almost every day at the cabin that has been in my family for many generations - the ancestral home, if you wish. I spent my childhood summers here making driftwood forts on the beach, reading MAD magazines in a tent under the stars, and climbing the cherry tree in front of the cabin. Sean and I got married in the field in front of the cabin back in 2007, under an arbor that my mom and dad made out of driftwood from the beach. It's a very special place that I look forward to visiting every summer.

One of the things I love doing when I spend time with my grandparents in Seattle is mining them for family history. It's so fun to hear about the cast of characters that are a part of my makeup. I include the cabin in that cast of characters. The land around the cabin was bought by my great-great-great grandfather Elmer, who originally hailed from NYC but came west as a young adult to take part in the gold rush in Alaska. He saved up all of his money to buy the equipment to join the gold rush, but once he got to Seattle he broke his leg and was unable to go. Instead, he built a shingle mill on the beach in front of the cabin that was fairly successful until the 1930s, when his employees were unionized into the Wobblies, a radical trade union with communist leanings. Elmer couldn't afford to pay the union salaries, and so closed the shingle mill. He and his family continued to live in a small cookhouse on the beach (which is still standing) until his death. His son put the property up for sale in the 1950s, refusing to sell it to his daughter (my great grandma) for reasons that have been lost to time. She was crushed to lose the home that she grew up in, but ultimately was able to buy a neighboring strawberry farm and the cabin I know and love today, including a stretch of the waterfront down below.

I love this cabin to pieces, and feel so lucky to have such a beautiful place to spend time at. It's starting to fall apart and there have been discussions about tearing it down and building a new one in its place. I know that this needs to happen at some point (and sooner rather than later), but I will be very sad to say goodbye to the cabin when that day comes. It will be like saying goodbye to an old friend. It makes me happy that V has been able to visit it in its original state, and I hope that she gets to spend many summers at the cabin, or at the cabin 2.0, making her own memories.



My great-grandfather built this dollhouse for my grandmother and her sister. When he originally made it for them, it had wallpaper and working light fixtures.



Various old photographs of my family.



This Pin the Tail on the Donkey has been up on the door for as long as I can remember. I believe it was first put up for someone's birthday, and just never came down. I guess the tails we pinned are still in place, too.



My great uncle is an artist/architect, and a bunch of his artworks are up on the cabin walls. I've always liked this leaf screenprint.





Old Reader's Digest and Coronet magazines from the 1950s.



The porch is built around an gnarly, old wisteria plant.





I love this old apple tree. It's bare on one side, and bushy on the other. It reminds me of Bozo the Clown.



My parents planted this tree after Sean and I got married.



We carved our initials into our driftwood arbor after we got married, and now V's initial is carved into it, too!