Cabin Fever
Every place on Earth receives roughly the same amount of daylight per year, and it’s time for us to pay our debt after endless summer sun showers. The last plants are starving for it.
Even on clear days it’s cloudy from the ice fog. I take refuge in the cabin.
In this place we all hold your breaths as we travel from one self-contained environment to another.
Heat spills out of the cabin in unseen cracks, and I’ve gone to the thrift store and scooped up an armful of blankets to stick along the floor by the west wall where there seems to be one. Log homes require constant upkeep, and it seems I’ve missed sealing one of the cracks. The cold makes me nervous that things will fall apart on me. Wintering here is like setting out across the ocean in a boat you've built, and winter is the ocean.
There are others here, too. They seem so far away.
What do we do with our solitude under this celestial ocean? This semester its Beginning Drawing for me.
