Simple living is always the best

    For years, I have dreamed of living in a log cabin. A cabin with a large great room complete with exposed pine rafters and a small kitchen at one end, with logs burning in a fireplace surrounded by comfortable chairs.
    And a loft for a study. The study I see in my dreams has a dormer window and a built-in desk under the window.
    A desk reminiscent of the one where Robert Frost sat to write: “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood/And sorry I could not travel both/And be one traveller, long I stood/And looked down one as far as I could . . . I took the one less travelled by/And that has made all the difference.”
    Unlike Frost who wrote by dipping his feather pen in an inkwell, I would want my desk to be big enough for a computer.
    In my “I See” folder I have lots of interior and exterior pictures of log cabins. And I still have a 1996 Annual Buyer's Guide to “Log Home Living.”
    This 360-page buyer's guide entices readers with a cover featuring the warm glow of firelight inside a cozy log cabin surrounded by snow. You can almost feel the warmth of the fire.
    As far as my dream goes, I really think a log cabin is impractical for this stage of life. But last week, I realized my dream anyway. For one glorious week, we lived in a simple log cabin high in the Colorado Rockies.
    It was everything I've dreamed of—high ceiling with open beams, wood-burning stove and even a La-Z-Boy chair so I could put my feet up.
    What a simple life we had! A few books. A few games. A few clothes.
    In fact, I took too few clothes. The weather was much wetter and colder than usual, and I had taken only two sweatshirts. I put both of them on the first night and wore them every day until we left the mountains.
    Our food was also quite simple.
    We shopped for groceries before ascending. Then mid-week, when eight of our extended family went down the mountain midweek to climb Pike's Peak on the cog railway, they picked up a few more perishable items.
    It's a challenge to cook simply with the ingredients you have on hand. But, when the nearest grocery store is an eight-mile mountain drive over steep, winding, bumpy roads, you learn to make do.
    Last Sunday when our “chef” was preparing spaghetti, he discovered we had accidentally bought salsa instead of spaghetti sauce. So he improvised! With the addition of some fresh tomatoes and a can of tomato paste, he created a delicious spicy spaghetti for supper. What a wonderful meal with hot garlic bread, a large salad and S'mores!
    By the middle of the week, we were all beginning to relax. “It takes three days to relax fully,” my husband noted. Indeed, unplugging from the daily cares of our fast-paced, high-tech world, is a gradual process.
    Now the trick is to keep that log cabin mentality going. To remember to live simply and tread lightly on the earth all year long.
Copyright 2007 Marie Snider
Marie Snider is an award-winning healthcare writer and syndicated columnist. Write Marie Snider at or visit her website at

Posted in Uncategorized