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I'm not sure how to explain myself, but I loved how real these structures were: sold logs, panes of thick, wavy glass, heavy cedar shingles and massive stone chimneys. You could see at a glance what all the natural components were that had been used in constructing them.
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| Me with my camera, peering in a cabin window |
But what captivated me even more, was gazing through the windows into the rooms. None of the cabins were open to the public, so the only way to see inside was to stand on strategically placed stumps, cup your hands around your eyes and wait for your eyes to adjust to the dimness of the rooms. Most people didn't have the patience to do this, but I'm a born voyeur, so this came naturally to me!
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This view was through a large chink in the boards that made the door. I'm thinking that the winter winds must have been chilly, blowing through a crack of this size. And look at the light coming in through the pitched roof. Perhaps this place was only used in the summer.
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This is the view from the window on the opposite side of the cabin. I love how the afternoon sun is streaming through the crack in the bottom of the door.
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These interiors mesmerized me. The gaps in the walls were so wide that I could breath in the smell of "oldness" that still clung to the rooms. Everything was dusty, drear and muted. And I was aching to walk through those doors to sweep, dust and bring a woman's touch to these bare spaces. A vase of flowers, a multi-hued rag rug by the bed, a quilt or two on the beds... These cabins call out to be cared for and loved by me!
Ironically, when we got home to Frogpond again, I was not moved to sweep, dust or make pretty our own little rooms... Funny how that works.
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