Have You Lost Your Senses?
Regain Them at Line Camp Cabin
By Glenda M. Sherrill
I have lost touch with my senses. The stress, responsibilities and distractions of the past ten months have exacted their toll. Dad's suddenly worsening dementia plus five falls in six months (two requiring surgery) demanded he be placed in a skilled nursing facility. Assuming Power of Attorney to handle all his legal, financial, personal and health-related decisions was the equivalent of a second full-time job. Roles are now reversed: he is the child, I am the parent. I begin searching the internet for a get-away and, being an Artemis in spirit, I unconsciously seek a retreat into Nature. There it is: a primitive cabin, the antithesis of my life - no people, TV, noise, appointments or telephone! Line Camp Cabin - only a four-hour drive from Kansas City and its frustrations. It will be my opportunity to reconnect with my senses.
The drive is revitalizing. October frosts have stripped the countless deciduous trees of their foliage creating a stark beauty throughout the south central Missouri Ozark Mountains. Secluded among these hills and trees, down a narrow, craggy, single-lane dirt and gravel road, the Line Camp Cabin is an isolated transplant caught and unchanged in an 1880's time-warp. With neither running water nor electricity, the one-room cabin is rustic -- to say the least! The 'Beverly Hillbillies' would be very comfortable here, crowding the small porch, issuing forth a generous welcome to "come on in and sit a spell" and a "ya'll come back, ya hear" at one's departure.
Foundation pillars of large stones held together with concrete patch 'level' the structure on the hillside. A generous stack of firewood and single cotton rope clothesline are 'out back'. Assorted animal traps, wooden buckets and antique tools hang on the walls to lend credibility to the time-warp spirit of the cabin. A converted tractor seat and small swing provide seating space on the tiny porch.
Blocked from direct line of sight is the privy. That's right…the toilet, the 'two-holer', the outhouse. Also a simple structure, it serves one's basic needs quite adequately and only the most finicky will reject this facility. Personally, I have experienced much worse!! Interior walls are decorated with faded photos of nefarious characters along with glossy remembrances posted by contemporary guests. Dog-eared magazines are available should one desire to while away part of the day. For the uninitiated, be advised the white powdery substance in the corner bucket is lime - not to be confused in any way with the green acidic edible fruit - and serves to reduce offensive odors when dumped or scattered on waste matter. Guests are encouraged to use this product to replace 'flushing.'
The cabin screen door is the wooden portal of a time machine that transports me to the 1880s…kerosene lamps on the walls, an iron bed, ice box with metal latch handles, a small rectangular stove to heat the single room, an antique propane gas stove for cooking (though not from the 1880's, it nevertheless is an 'antique' - wooden matches are available for lighting burners). Interior flooring is pine plank, beaded board covers both ceiling and walls, and windows are rippled glass. Just as in 1880, there are only basic, practical furnishings and construction.
Entering the cabin, my numbed sense of smell is suddenly stimulated. The aroma from the newly lit wood fire - mingled with the lingering scent of countless previous burnings - jolts memories of my maternal grandparents' home. Although their frame house was three rooms and large compared to the cabin, my earliest memories are of a wood heat stove in the 'living room' (which doubled as their bedroom), cast iron cook stove, hand-dug well and smoke house immediately off the porch, and the 'path' to the privy. The aroma of Grandmother's 'made from scratch' biscuits, milk/sausage gravy, ham from the smoke house and eggs laid just the day before were the best 'wake-up' calls ever! The current smoke scent clings to my denim jacket and the slightest whiff of the fragrance continues to magically access my childhood memories of a setting so similar to the cabin.
Glenda Sherrill - Copyright 2005
Taste buds are rejuvenated thanks to the fresh air and an oversized fire pit! Grilled chicken and salmon, warm bread, steamed vegetables - all flavors are wonderfully enhanced when cooked over the open fire. Fresh fruits, cheese, roasted marshmallows and, yes, glasses of wine are all more delectable in this relaxed, comfortable setting. What a menu and setting for dining! It is fall and too soon cold temperatures will require meals be eaten indoors. Not so here! Not so now!
One sense is impacted not by what is present but by what is missing. Intrusive noises of 'civilization' are non-existent: no emergency sirens, car horns, telephone, highway traffic, computers, and alarm clocks!! Suddenly, late in the second day, a low-flying small airplane fractures the quiet and startles me! How quickly and completely I have shifted from merely surviving in the modern era to being enlivened and centered in the 1880's! Gentle breezes caressing barren branches are the basso-continuo for Nature's more 'vocal' music-makers: whippoorwill, bobwhite, crickets, the screech of a circling hawk, katydid, bull frogs. A rustling in fallen leaves just beyond the evening firelight raises questions: Is it a deer? Perhaps it is a raccoon or a lumbering opossum? Could it be a carnivore - a coyote perhaps or fox? A lone hoot owl and various nocturnal insects add their cacophony to the crackling of the outdoor fire. This is their last hurrah as very soon they will seek winter hiding places to wait for next spring.
The skin is the largest organ of the human body. From the cool, iron pump handle to snapping twigs for the fire to carrying firewood to selecting souvenirs in the dry creek bed to turning handmade blankets at night, my skin accesses latent memories. Each step of bath preparation intensifies the recollections: The unique texture of the 36" oval galvanized tub. Drawing water at the outdoor pump then carrying heavy pails. Heating the water on the antique gas stove. Settling into and luxuriating in the warmth of my creation I have an 1880's luxury! Being conscious of every detail, the 'feel' of each step deepens my appreciation of the amount of energy and time bathing required 100+ years ago. Several female friends teased at my eagerness at vacationing without running water or electricity. My enjoyment and sense of accomplishment, however, are well worth the efforts! (For the less adventurous, a contemporary facility with electricity and running water is available in the main house - up the hill.) ********* The return to Kansas City tests the regaining of my senses. It is not cold this morning compared to many winter statistics; however, the wind at the bus stop is biting enough for me to wish for gloves and scarf forgotten at home. I feel I have again lost awareness of my senses. I settle in at the office computer, wrap chilled hands around the cup of hot chocolate and raise it to my lips. Suddenly I am catapulted to the 1880s! Eyes closed, relishing the warm liquid all the way to my stomach, I am mentally transported to Line Camp Cabin. I breathe the crisp autumn air and feel the warm blankets. I smell the crackling fire and hear the whippoorwill. Only three weeks ago, I was there reveling in the simplicity of the 1880's. What an exhilarating flight from the wood-paneled, windowless law office with its nine clamoring telephone lines. Only three weeks - - - - - yet a lifetime. Reliving the cabin memories restores my senses.
Line Camp Cabin is part of the Rock Eddy Bluff Farm Bed and Breakfast near Dixon, Missouri, and is operated by Kathy and Tom Corey. Additional information is available on their website www.rockeddy.com
Glenda Sherrill - Copyright 2005 (Used with permission)
