Nuts

Nuts

Suzanne Marsh

Okay, so I don't have to be nuts to be heading into the Allegheny Mountains, it no doubt would have been better if I were. I needed a place to finish the ending of my newest book: Forty and Loving It.

Then I remembered a hunting cabin that my family has used since the very early sixties. I called my dad:

"Hey son, what's up?"

"Not much Dad, but I was thinking that maybe I could use the cabin in Ellicottville. I need to

finish the ending before the publisher decides to cancel the entire book."

"Sure son, but you might want to stop here to get the key and some essential items."

"Essential items dad? What do I need?"

"A small Coleman heater, stove, cooler, sleeping bag with a better than fifteen below reading,

and you should take the old Smith Corona typewriter you had in college."

"Dad, that is a manual typewriter."

"Yes son, but there is no electricity, which means no cell phone, computer and web."

"Fine, Dad but I still need to get this ending completed. Maybe if there is no computer or

cell phone, I might just get some serious writing done. Can you give me the directions?

I haven't been there in almost twenty years."

"Sure son, I will have them ready for you. When are you planning to pick up the key?"

"I should be there in a few hours."

"See you then."

I headed toward Dad's home in Kenmore, New York; Ellicottville was two hours away. Dad handed me the directions:

"Good luck Son, now remember when you get to the fork in the road there is a small pine tree,

be sure you bear right, left will take you further up into the mountains."

"Bye Dad, see you in a few days. Thanks for the use of the cabin."

"You're welcome Son."

I drove toward the Allegheny Mountains, simply enjoying the day. I saw deer hunters with their rifles all over town. According to Dad I was supposed to make my first left onto Oak Drive. Oak would take me to Elm, which would take me into the mountains. Just before the assent into the mountains there was a little hole in the wall cafe, that seemed to beckon me to stop and eat.

Underway once more, I began to see more and more snow. It was pristine, lovely and forbidding. I hated driving in deep snow, hence I drove a Jeep Wagoneer. Today I would thank my lucky stars that I do. The snow on what I assumed was a road seemed to be well over three feet. I knew the Wagoneer had been through higher but I was out here in the middle of no where, no phone service and no GPS. I was glad I had left early in the morning, at least I still had daylight.

I was already regretting my stopping town at the local greasy spoon. The cook needed to learn to cook and not offer burnt offerings. The eggs were a peculiar shade of brown, the home fried potatoes were gray and the bacon was more like ciders than bacon. The coffee, was more like motor oil, I would not be surprised if was motor oil. So much for eating. I just hoped it would stay down until I found the cabin.

I continued to follow Dad's directions, until I saw a creek; I did not remember. I could not back up and going forward would put me further into the woods. Then I saw a place I could turn around. I was on a roll here. The light coming through the trees reminded me of a fairy tale, that Dad had read to me when I was five. Rose Red and Snow White, was the name if memory served me correctly. The snow made me think of parking: jumping in the snow and making a snow angel. Get my imagination working. I did precisely that. I looked at my watch after I made my snow angel and promptly decided I had better move it or I would be driving around at dusk. When timber wolves, coyotes and sometimes black bears appeared; I had no desire to encounter any of these creatures.

I finally found the damn pine tree, except it was not a sapling any longer it was a beautiful blue spruce that stood well over fifteen feet! I was vastly relieved to see that old cabin. There it stood, a primitive hunting cabin, asbestos shingles, and NO ELECTRICITY. I began unloading the Jeep. I hoped that Dad had put in extra propane or it was going to be a very cold night. I grabbed the small Coleman heater and headed for the door.

I opened the door and snow cascaded down over the door, not to mention my jacket and shirt. Right about now I wished I had brought a pair of long johns. I started the heater, then began dragging everything else in; including my manual typewriter. The small table I put my typewriter on, hell I hadn't used a manual typewriter in almost twenty five years. This was going to be a whole new experience, I was to old for this kind thing. I was set in my ways, you know electricity, warmth, a computer, that sort of comfort.

Darkness was almost here; I dug around in the things Dad packed hoping there was some food, otherwise it was going to be a long night, I just had no idea at this point. Sure enough, Dad had packed beans and other canned goods. Good enough, I could go down into town tomorrow and get some real food, but night I would feast on beans. I was roughing it, for the first time in a very long time. I turned up the Coleman lantern: it gave off such a warm glow. I made a visit outside, headed inside, the cabin was warm. I laid out the sleeping bag Dad had provided, not to mention a pillow. The floor was cold, I could not get comfortable, it was to cold even with sleeping bag. I tossed and turned, then decided that maybe a quick walk, would settle me down. That wasn't happening not any time soon.

I decided that I need to work on that ending, that was really bothering me. I came back into the cabin, lite the lantern. I sat at the typewriter, my fingers numb and my mind in about the same shape. What had possessed me to come up here to finish my book was beyond my comprehension at this moment. I longed for a hot cup of coffee and my computer. Since that was not the case, I would be better off to finish the ending tonight and head home in the morning. However, Mother Nature had other plans, I finally fell asleep at three in morning, the good thing was I finished the book; the bad thing was it was snowing hard, which meant I was stuck here for a few days. No electricity, no conveniences. I was going to have to ride out the storm then head home.

Three days later, I was on my way home. Once out of the mountains I called Dad to let him know I was on my way home.

"Did you finish the book son?"

"Yes, Dad we can talk about it when I get home."

"I heard on the weather report that you got several feet of snow up there. I guess that is

why you are finally on your way home."

"Yep Dad, I will tell you about it. I am going to stop at the post office and send out

the script then I will be home to drop off the equipment."

"Okay son, see you then."

Interstate ninety never looked so good. I stopped long enough to send the ending to the editor and go over to Dad's. I would return home in the morning.

Later that week I received a message from my editor:

"I received the ending, that was terrific but on a manual typewriter? Where were you?

Out in the woods somewhere?"

He will never know how right he was.