When I was little kid my family spent many a two week summer vacation at Grandma Bea’s cabin. I marveled at this real log cabin hidden in the woods of northern Wisconsin on a peninsula into Enterprise Lake just out of Elcho (between Antigo and Rhinelander). It always seemed like such a long drive to get there from the southwest suburbs of Chicago.
Grandma Bea was fun. She would sit on the floor with me in the evening in front of the huge stone fireplace building houses of cards from her multiple pinochle decks. She taught me to play jacks. Took me hunting for wild blueberries still covered with dew to put in the morning’s pancakes. I’d help her with the compost/worm box as we watched the hummingbirds at her colorful flower garden. When I’d come out of the lake shivering and shriveled from long play she’d meet me with a towel, and the salt shaker to remove any stray leeches. We’d take the row boat across a small bay to fill the huge metal milk tins she used to store potable water. Sometimes the long driveway would sink into the swamp that separated her land from the main road so the row boat came in handy there also. There was running water piped from the lake and even indoor plumbing that had been added at some point in time. She had a huge wood cook stove that I was baffled by and marveled to watch her whip up a magnificent meal. (I respected this many years later when I tried to bake a cake in a wood stove.) I remember sleeping in the screened porch and listening to the night’s nature sounds that surrounded the cabin on the lake.
Then there was Grandpa Butch. Bea’s second husband retired from working on the railroad. He seemed to fish all day and drink at night before passing out in his bed built in an alcove off the big living room. There were two very small bedrooms and my parents slept in one, the other was Grandma Bea’s. The beds were deep in handmade quilts and blankets and I loved to crawl in with Grandma in the evenings while she read detective magazines with exciting illustrated covers.
When it rained the roof of the old cabin leaked in many places. I would help place pots, pans and bowls under the drips and enjoyed listening to the various musical sounds of plink, plop, pip-pip-pip-pip. Then Grandma would complain to Grandpa about fixing the roof and he would always reply that he couldn’t fix it in the rain.
Grandma Bea was fun. She would sit on the floor with me in the evening in front of the huge stone fireplace building houses of cards from her multiple pinochle decks. She taught me to play jacks. Took me hunting for wild blueberries still covered with dew to put in the morning’s pancakes. I’d help her with the compost/worm box as we watched the hummingbirds at her colorful flower garden. When I’d come out of the lake shivering and shriveled from long play she’d meet me with a towel, and the salt shaker to remove any stray leeches. We’d take the row boat across a small bay to fill the huge metal milk tins she used to store potable water. Sometimes the long driveway would sink into the swamp that separated her land from the main road so the row boat came in handy there also. There was running water piped from the lake and even indoor plumbing that had been added at some point in time. She had a huge wood cook stove that I was baffled by and marveled to watch her whip up a magnificent meal. (I respected this many years later when I tried to bake a cake in a wood stove.) I remember sleeping in the screened porch and listening to the night’s nature sounds that surrounded the cabin on the lake.
Then there was Grandpa Butch. Bea’s second husband retired from working on the railroad. He seemed to fish all day and drink at night before passing out in his bed built in an alcove off the big living room. There were two very small bedrooms and my parents slept in one, the other was Grandma Bea’s. The beds were deep in handmade quilts and blankets and I loved to crawl in with Grandma in the evenings while she read detective magazines with exciting illustrated covers.
When it rained the roof of the old cabin leaked in many places. I would help place pots, pans and bowls under the drips and enjoyed listening to the various musical sounds of plink, plop, pip-pip-pip-pip. Then Grandma would complain to Grandpa about fixing the roof and he would always reply that he couldn’t fix it in the rain.
Sally from The (Mis) Adventures of Karl and Sally has started a new meme where the past is remembered through sharing old family photographs and this is #6. I love the idea and hope you will too. So join the fun by clicking here.
what a wonderful grandma you had…and what great memories you have of the times spent there. my grandparents all passed away when I was young (under 12) and i so miss them. we would spend times in iowa some summers 🙂
No wonder you love nature! How I envy that part of your childhood, spending it in a cabin. I never had grandparent. So, when I became one, it took me a couple of years to know how that goes. Great post, Gaelyn!
Grandma Bea sounds like lots of fun. And her cabin sounds like a very special place, especially from a child's viewpoint. Great memories!
Sounds like a wonderful place. Childhood cottages are always magical aren't they?
You had a wonderful grandma and such great memories of your younger years. I wish I had those kinds of memories. Great story.
BTW, your header is beautiful.
This place is definitely special. Do you know if it is still there? I think these are simply wonderful pictures and the post is delightful. Thanks for sharing this one, Gaelyn.
You really had a "fab" grandma! Very neat pictures and great memories.
Oh WOW Gaelyn!! What wonderful memories and that house is one I would give almost anything to live in!!
Are you actually from Chicago? I had in-laws who lived their until they retired, bought a motor home and went traveling. I have never in my life experienced the cold more than the first time I went there. 🙂 Okay, it was my fault as I did not have the right shoes on. 🙂
We are going to have long, long conversations I see, so please be prepared to get VERY little sleep in your first 2 weeks here. 🙂
Gaely, such wonderful memories of childhood and a great grandma. Granddad had a good life fishing and drinking and NOT fixing the rood.
Log cabins are beautiful. My grandfather had one in the woods too.
Really love this post. As I was reading I felt as if I were there listening to the sounds of rain drip music. Wonderful that you have all those memories and photos too.
What a great story. Grandma sounds like a special influence on you and Grandpa sounds like a card!
What a great post. I too have nice memories of the cabin on my grandparents' farm. My cousin built a house there and kept the original cabin as the centre of the 2 storey house.
Beautiful memories and a lovely cabin. This is the style I remember from my childhood but now all the "cabins" are monster mansions.
What a great post! I love these memories and pictures. But the leeches?? OY!
I just found this, Gaelyn, thanks to Linkwithin. Such a rich story, filled with love, laughter and grand memories. We can practically smell the woodsmoke and feel the chilled air, see your goosebumps as you exit the lake. My favorite part, maybe, is the rain leaking through the roof, plunking and pinging in the many pots and pans. Thanks for this. (and yea…leeches? Ick!)
Hello..I knew your Grandma Bea… in fact I call her that today. Ding and my dad Bud were best friends for years, and my Mom became good friends with Bea and Butch. We also spent our summers on the Lake. I even have a Rocking Bassinet she bought when I was a baby to sleep in…