It all started on one of those warm, sunny, and calm days in the early spring., in this case the spring of 2000. With winter fresh in our minds, and the knowledge of more yet to come, my wife Donna and I played like children in a back corner of the property.
There is a spring back there at the base of the hill. It is significant enough that it was mentioned in an 1855 deed. Even in the dry and heat of the summer, it produces a bounteous flow of cool and clean water.
We had made our way to it and after marveling at it, we started to fuss it up. We cleared the brush from around it, and made a clear path to it... By the time we were done, there was a path paved with flat rocks, a sitting area, and a hollow sumac trunk ran from the spring mouth over a forked stick, so that water could pour directly in to a cup that hung nearby.
We sat there, tired from our play. Donna looked at me and... I will exaggerate slightly... With her hands clasped together over her heart, and her eyes cast dreamily to the heavens beyond the blue sky, she started moving her lips. Immediately, a heart shaped word bubble appeared over her head; I think a bluebird was perched on one side of it, and a few lillies graced the other side.
Within the bubble, words appeared that said "I'd love to have a little cabin back here"... We envisioned a humble pile of sticks, someplace we could come for coffee or a picnic on a nice day (or even a horrible, snowy day).
One of Donna's most important jobs is to restrain me, to keep me from jumping into too many foolish projects. With her so excited about building a cabin, there would be nothing to slow the spinning wheels of my imagination.
Casually, as though we weren't playing with fire, we picked a good location for it, and sort of started clearing brush. Just to look, of course. I found a picture of a cute cottage and sketched up a plan on a piece of graph paper. Our daughter Dannielle caught the drift and announced that she would like to live back there. I replied that she would happily discover that flush toilets were over-rated and that gas lights were quite pleasing.
A few weeks later, Donna dropped the bomb and stated that "young girls have different needs than guys. The "humble pile of sticks" took its final configuration as a miniature house, with a proper septic system and electricity.
One morning, still in her pajamas, Danni moved from the house to the cabin and lived there for several years before moving on. It was her plan that we could rent the cabin to weekend visitors; She became the brains of the operation, Donna became the maid and I became the handyman.
Rental information and many more pictures of the cabin can be found at springsretreat.com