A White Christmas
Lori Narlock
Snow was predicted at the cabin last week. A white Christmas. I considered ditching our holiday plans to go up for the day. It would have been a first time for me to spend Christmas there and a first for me to be there when it snowed.
It snows infrequently in our small town, but over the years it has snowed. I have lots of photos—that other people took—of the cabin in the snow and it looks so inviting. When I think of it snowing there, I picture us looking out the front windows while sitting in front of the fire in our new sofa.
And when I say new, I mean new to us. Like nearly everything at the cabin it was salvaged. But I love it all the more because it was salvaged. Or maybe I love it because my yearning for one like it started years ago when I walked by a white, tufted leather sofa sitting in a driveway where church donations were left. I wanted that sofa for the cabin. It seemed so perfect—mouse proof, washable, and durable.
That leather sofa stuck in my mind and so when it came time to replace our old, very comfortable and very retro (think curved, rustic wool) love seat, I set up a google alert for a leather sofa. Month after month yielded nothing. So I took to Craigslist one morning and there it was: free leather sofa with three end tables.
Lisa and Lauren rented a van that afternoon, drove to Petaluma, picked up the sofa and brought it home. Butterscotch-colored with just enough wear to make it feel lived in, it offers sink-in comfort. We took it to the cabin a few weeks later and there we sat and sat.
While I always gravitate towards the porch—rain or shine—I can’t help but fantasize about spending hours in our sofa in front of the fire while it rains—or better yet snows—outside. Maybe next year will be that year. And if it is, I already know how we’d spend our time when we weren’t snuggling up on the sofa.
We’d start get every fire going with these aromatic—and natural—starters. (after we cut down a tree and brought it home.)