Odell Lake

John's close-up of a tree root looks like a little landscape.

We have a neighbor who left for Hawaii last week, and colleagues who have traveled to Mexico for spring break, all with the intent of feeling a warm breeze and hot sun. That sounds lovely, but we went in the opposite direction: straight to the middle of winter, just two and a half hours away in Oregon's central Cascades. We rented our favorite cabin on Odell Lake, where it was OK that the floor tilted, the shower leaked a little, the furniture is all old, and a squirrel rustled in the rafters. In these cabins there are no TVs, no radios, no telephones; next to a candle on the windowsill, there is a little sign that says "When the power goes out, it will take 30 minutes for the generator to start up."
It's all OK because you can step onto the back porch, strap on skis or snowshoes, whistle for the dogs, and head out into the crystalline beauty of the mountain forest in winter. It is very quiet. There is a preciousness about the last good snow of the season, so soon to make way for April rain.

Icicles were everywhere, hanging like crystals on a chandelier, along the deserted shoreline. (John's photo)