Today, we are traveling to Wyoming for a fall visit to the cabin.

We left before dawn so we could get to the cabin by mid-afternoon. We’re just there for a short visit, the kind that is all about relaxation. We can forget about big improvement or maintenance projects, and concentrate on enjoying the gold leaves on the aspen trees, the elk bugling and getting the hot tub up to temperature by eventing time. We will be busy–there will be steaks to grill, beers to open, hikes and naps to take and books to be opened, if not read.

There will not be any mice on this visit. Our man G has been trekking up to the cabin once a month, checking and keeping the cabin’s rodent and insect defenses on high alert.

It will be crisp and cool there, and we’ll need the extra blankets and the wood stove to keep us warm. Such a nice change from the endless summer that seems to be hanging on in California. Water–the glorious, clean, somehow rich-tasting water from our well–is not scarce there, so we will fill the hot tub, set up the outdoor shower, and rinse off the dust of drought for the weekend. I’m sorry California, I don’t mean to be critical, but the new dry thing gets wearisome.

My one regret is that the one in our family who arguably loves it in the most basic, earthy and holistic way cannot come with us. Tie is spending the weekend in the kennel, and though it will be something of a spa weekend for him, complete with bath and nail clipping, I know he’d be so sad if he knew we left him behind to go to the cabin. I tried to keep it quiet before we left, not even getting out my suitcase before we left for the kennel, but he will know by the smell when we get home where we have been. I’m glad I paid extra for the special play time. I couldn’t stand the guilt otherwise.

Hold on leaves! Don’t fall before we get there! Resist the wind! Keep on rutting, elk! We want to hear your eerie cries echo through the forest!

We’re almost there.