There's a good woodsy smell. Some kerosene lamps. An icebox. "Camp robbers," the whistling birds that'll eat right our of your hand. Toys that have been here forever, and a wind-up phonograph.
The cabin is full of stories, too. Of the elk who came up on the porch and the igloo with lighted candles inside; of the mice who run around at night, looking for crumbs.
Our family's come to the cabin for years and years. Here's the key. Come on in.
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