Weekend “Pioneering”

For quite literally decades we assumed we’d end up in a storybook log cabin high on a misty mountainside, miles from civilization, where bears roamed free and Amazon deliveries feared to tread. We would be pioneers. Modern, but pioneers nonetheless.

But when the time actually came and we started touring log home models, we discovered something nobody tells you: they’re dark. I’m not talking “moody lighting” dark. I’m talking “I just stepped into a Hobbit hole at midnight” dark. We like cozy—but we also like being able to see where the furniture is before we stub a toe on it.

Then came the hard truth: mountainside living was great in our youth, when we were basically mountain goats with driver’s licenses. But these days, altitude has given way to attitude. We once laughed at hairpin turns on narrow mountain roads. Now we picture them with a healthy dose of heart palpitations and roadside emergency lighting. Night driving at our age isn’t an adventure—it’s an Olympic sport in which the prize is making it home without a chiropractor appointment.

And as it turns out, we’re not quite as “off-the-grid” as our twenty-something selves believed we’d be. We like Starbucks. We like grocery store options. We like auto parts stores that aren’t fifty miles down a gravel road patrolled by feral raccoons. Civilization has its perks—mainly, cheeseburgers and decent Wi-Fi.

Still, sometimes the log cabin fantasy whispers sweet nothings in our ears. So this weekend, we’re joining the siblings at a picture-perfect log cabin. The kind with a wide front porch, rocking chairs, and firepit that looks like it came straight out of a country music video. For a few glorious days, we’ll live the rustic dream: wood underfoot, rocking away like mountain sages, and pretending I’m not already wondering if there’s a Target nearby.

And then we’ll head back to our cottage on the ridge—where the logs are accents, not load-bearing, and the porch is more “painted lady” than pioneer chic. We’ll grab a burger on the way, and I’ll probably swing by Hobby Lobby. Because nothing says “pioneer woman” like lanterns filled with faux plants.