We got lucky when we got this cabin finished in 1974 or 1975, I forget which, electricity was easy to get. A short distance from the road the electric co-op didn't need to put in an extra pole which we couldn't have found the money for. We were tapped out by that point. The bottom floor was colder than hell because we ran out of money for the floor. We had to use small dead poles instead of floor joists and cover them with a thick layer of dirt. The plywood went over the dirt.
At thirty-five below zero, all the hanging plants died off at about waist level. But the loft was warm and I had a job. We survived to see summer again. And the mountains fed my soul no matter what season we were in.
There were friends to lighten the load and share in the work. One, in particular, stole my heart without my knowing it until later. Like a smart woman, I snapped him up before some other female got wise once I realized what happened.
And he was one tough man. That is snow on the ground and he is preparing to ride that motorcycle with no more than a sweater on. He made do. A Glasgow boy, off the boat, he oozed determination. The man was an old school gentleman to his littlest toe. He knew me, faults and all. I was happy to be his lovey.
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