Okay, let me back up a bit. This all has to do with my little piece of heaven in the country, about which those who have followed me for a while have probably read plenty. If you're not familiar, you can read my most recent post about it here, where I give a short tour of the "yard", and show off some recent construction. Here's the Shabo-Mekaw post, where I go on about how beautiful it is, and make several statements which have now been proven false. This post features some lovely shots of the area, coupled with a poem by Walt Whitman; this one showcases the beauty of Shabo-Mekaw as well. I couldn't possibly list all the photos throughout this blog that were taken at this most sacred of places.
Yes, I am eventually getting to the point of all this. (I used to work for a principal who would go on and on forever and then say, "...and I said all that to say this", and finally come out with it. But I digress...) I was contacted by the man who had the cabin built in 1959, who I had mistakenly believed was deceased- Ken Lobitz! We have exchanged several emails at this point, along with pictures, like this one of Ken in 1935, holding a muskie his father had caught:
How cute is that? I love this picture!
We found out that the cabin was not built of redwood from California, as we had been told, but is white cedar from Michigan.
I'm sure the Kinniconick Creek looks much different than it did when Ken was last here. The "swirl hole", a deep pool at the point where the creek temporarily forks to embrace the island, has changed considerably just in the six years we've owned the property.
With each Spring flood, the water is slowly breaching the tip of the island, changing the shape of the swirl. The floods have scoured the island on the side facing us, leaving us a view of mostly rocks.
The pond Ken built didn't hold water, and when we bought the property, probably had about two feet in it. We had it re-dug (re-cored, I think?), and it's better, but still leaks a bit. I don't regret it though; it looks beautiful.
This is a copy of a map we found under the glass top of a little table in the cabin. Years ago, Ken drew the map and documented on it everything he had done to the property. I added what we have done so far (only on the copy; the original is carefully stored away); it's now framed and hangs on the wall in my hallway. I treasure everything associated with Shabo-Mekaw, and am keeping it together as a kind of 'scrapbook' of the place.
No matter what has happened over the years, and despite many changes, Shabo-Mekaw remains a sacred refuge for me, a place where I feel a deep connection to nature, and where I find the peace so lacking in my daily grind. So, Ken, I feel I owe you a huge debt of gratitude, for what you did then, and for being a kindred spirit and new found friend.