The view from the top...of the world

Here I am, broadcasting to the world from what seems like its remotest corner. The border between the United States and Canada is largely uninhabited, and this tiny cabin is no exception. Writing this post is no simple task with my 21.6kbps modem connection, but I am grateful for it, because this trusty laptop -- and the archaic-seeming link to the outside world it affords -- is likely unrivaled in its technology for many miles around. The mercury's annual journey to far below the Zero mark ensures that only the hardiest specimens will voluntarily call this forested tundra their home. The nearest civilization vaguely resembling a town is 20 miles away and it mostly thrives on its own, counting a general store, trailer-turned-diner, and tiny Sinclair filling station as its greatest economic achievements. And the lucky (or lost) tourist traveling down this village's "main" road might even suppose a Roanoke-type mass disappearance has occured, save for a few Carhardtt-clothed denizens perched proudly atop their snowmobiles...Snowmobiles? Yes, and the arctic vehicles even have their own roads and miniature street signs at intersections, maintained by the government in much the same way as regular roads. Might sound extreme, but this is, after all, virtually the edge of the world, and Ford doesn't specialize in minus-50-degree engine temperatures so most of the trucks have been safely nestled in storage sheds for the ruthless winter.

But back to here, and now. Being someone who can't really say she's "from" anywhere, this cabin is as close to "home" as I can get, at least for now. I only lived here for a year, but my memories of the holidays are always and only in this small cabin, and this land and the river on it have graciously supported my family for six generations. There's an ancient red barn with a real attic holding enough rusted cow bells, metal farm equipment and boxes full of century-old Swedish relics to keep me pondering my own history for a very long time. This cabin was only built about 15 years ago, but right across the yard there's a weathered cellar shed, a water pump from one of the first houses, and some rusty wagon wheels which haven't been moved in decades. Wander around in the 400 acres of woods and you'll eventually find the ruins of a '37 pickup, the skeleton of a long-defunct barn, and a hundred years' worth of hunting cabins and deer stands.

Anyways, that's just a short glimpse of where we spend most of our Christmases (and deer hunting seasons). I hope your holidays are rich and fun. Don't forget that this isn't only the season of giving; it's also the season of receiving: the time we remember that we've been given the greatest Gift of history in the form of a divine Baby who would provide the only way of salvation. Thanks to anyone who took the time to read this!