Dear Hubby, Fine Son and I just spent several days in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with my Sis and her husband at their cabin. It's so far north that every direction is south.
It's a beautiful spot. Brilliant birch, deep dark pines, burning red maples. No neighbors, no noise, no traffic.
No electricity. . . no plumbing . . . no internet . . . no television . . .
Just each other.
It's amazing what people do when there's no distraction. We actually talked to each other. Laughed with and at each other. Watched the stars. Stared at the fire. Read books. Chatted some more, remembering when we were kids. (Did my sis and I have the same childhood?)
It was life unplugged. And it was lovely. We walked for miles kicking up golden birch leaves. The guys fished and kayaked. Hubby, casting for musky quite vigorously, tipped his kayak over into the icy, tea-colored water, besting any roller-coaster ride for thrills and chills. We ventured up to Sugar Mountain and imagined being the first among the miles of trails wandering through the wilderness.
At no time did we wonder what was on channel 5. Or channel 204. Or the radio for that matter. We were living fully and in the fullness of the present moment.
It won't be long and we'll be back among paved streets and tv satellite dishes. We'll settle into our forced-air-heated home, check the fridge repeatedly in hopes that someone actually cooked something, and stare at the television hoping to be stimulated. (Is that an oxymoron?)
And soon we'll take an evening to sit on the patio wrapped in blankets and watch the stars. We'll re-live the hikes and the laughter. We'll leave the tv off and dream.
It's a beautiful spot. Brilliant birch, deep dark pines, burning red maples. No neighbors, no noise, no traffic.
No electricity. . . no plumbing . . . no internet . . . no television . . .
Just each other.
It's amazing what people do when there's no distraction. We actually talked to each other. Laughed with and at each other. Watched the stars. Stared at the fire. Read books. Chatted some more, remembering when we were kids. (Did my sis and I have the same childhood?)
It was life unplugged. And it was lovely. We walked for miles kicking up golden birch leaves. The guys fished and kayaked. Hubby, casting for musky quite vigorously, tipped his kayak over into the icy, tea-colored water, besting any roller-coaster ride for thrills and chills. We ventured up to Sugar Mountain and imagined being the first among the miles of trails wandering through the wilderness.
At no time did we wonder what was on channel 5. Or channel 204. Or the radio for that matter. We were living fully and in the fullness of the present moment.
It won't be long and we'll be back among paved streets and tv satellite dishes. We'll settle into our forced-air-heated home, check the fridge repeatedly in hopes that someone actually cooked something, and stare at the television hoping to be stimulated. (Is that an oxymoron?)
And soon we'll take an evening to sit on the patio wrapped in blankets and watch the stars. We'll re-live the hikes and the laughter. We'll leave the tv off and dream.
3 comments:
Hooray for the Life Unplugged!
Everyone should have a cabin in the woods. Everyone should give themselves time to go there to disengage from the mesh of daily life.
That's when you can separate your Entanglements from your Roots.
Love the smiles in the picture!
-Mavis
Oh, I looovvveee those kinds of vacations! I'm happy for you. Hope to talk to you soon!
-Preenie
Ahh, sounds lovely.
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