The Pacific NW is so full of beauty, rustic, crazy, mossy beauty.
And water. I am just crazy about a bit of rushing water.
Once a year or so I try to treat myself to something lovely.
This week I went here.
To a falling down family cabin in the woods, built in the 20's and not expected to last forever.
I could have stayed and stayed.
It reminded me of the ramshackle beach house that belonged to the grandmother of my college boyfriend.
It was also a lovely, place, slowly rotting into the ground, in a charming, slow way, the way those houses do.
Meandering and sloped.
Stinky and moldy and delightful.
Full of damp paperbacks and weird knick knacks.
Beloved and neglected.
The people that love them never have enough money to maintain them. Everyone else doesn't care.