" I could see that I lived in the created world, and it was

 still being created. I would be part of it forever. There was no escape. 

The Spirit that made it was in it, shaping it and reshaping it, 

sometimes lying at rest, sometimes standing up and shaking itself,

 like a muddy horse, and letting the pieces fly.” 

 

from Jayber Crow

Wendell Berry

To get to the cabin,, once you have abandoned highway 

for a gravel grid road is to enter a farm field. 

My wife pointed out on this trip, that what she is looking forward to

about the cabin are the changes from season to season, year to year. 

But even the trip from the grid to the cabin is a study in niches. 

Here it is still a working farm which in this season is given over to

the shredded wheat shapes of the great round bales. 

It is in their shade that Shaun will rest while we prospect for

arrowheads. The deer sleep in the tall grass at the edge of the field 

before the  grass gives way to aspen and the dogs are fascinated by 

the flattened down circles that mark their beds.  A trip down this lane 

is sunshine, vesper sparrows,goldfinches and the while tufts of 

the thistle heads releasing their seeds.

 

 

 

"But it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky;
and the air smells now, as if it blew from a far-away
meadow; they have been making hay somewhere
under the slopes of the Andes, Starbuck, and the mowers
are sleeping among the new-mown hay."

from Moby Dick
Herman Melville

Then we mount the ridge above the slough. Here

is sun dappled shadow, the trails of beavers crossing

 from slough to slough, waxwings and woodpeckers.

And finally breaking free of the trees we find the 

meadow where the cabin sits and the slough beyond.