The Other Cabin Fever
No, not that one. Well, originally that one. A few months ago I did something extremely out of character—I jumped on making reservations for a cabin I’d never seen, in a park I’d never visited, because there were nights available. Mount Lemmon had been closed because of the pandemic, then caught fire, and I didn’t know when we’d be able to go there again and I couldn’t imagine staying home any longer, and so I started looking elsewhere, and then I jumped on the first thing I found. Camping, you see, is about as safe as you can get right now, especially the way we camp—as far as we can get from everyone, avoiding people like they might carry plague long before the pandemic. Anyway. This past weekend was, at last, our weekend. Behold our weekend home, as the sun set. Ahead of the cabin, the lake. Behind the cabin, the mountain. I took this picture farther around the lake, so our cabin is in it. Meet some of our neighbors. Several of these guys dropped by Friday night to see if we’d left anything out for them. Sadly I did not take a picture. I did take a picture of the one I ran into raiding the snackbox (read: trash can) outside the restroom at four in the morning, but all you can see are its eyes glowing red, so we’ll skip that one. These birds would come in the evenings and chatter and flit about these reeds sticking…