A Fantasy or A Memory

[b](Was it a fantasy or a memory, only I will ever know for certain.)[/b]

It is a brisk late autumn afternoon, and the vivid forest colors have at last reached their seasonal peak; the oranges, reds, and crimsons are almost too much to behold! .. As the setting sun nears a mountain’s crest, and shadows begin to creep over the hills, I am suddenly returned to reality by a slight tug at my shirt-tail .. “Come on inside, supper’s almost ready!”

The air in the cabin is awash with the fragrance coming from the old wood-burning cook stove; a blend of hickory smoke and the aroma of chicken sizzling in an old cast iron skillet; it’s almost enough to make a grown man cry! … No, nothing fancy; not an expensive meal prepared by a big-city chef in an elegant hotel dining room, just a cloth-covered table, two old wooden rocking chairs resting before an open hearth, and a very pleasant face hovering over what will soon be my supper (our supper)!

….. The tiny cabin overlooking the river is indeed small; with only one door and two windows, one on either side of the corner fireplace made of field stone gathered from the surrounding slopes. It has a porch on the side facing the river, with three rickety steps leading up from a well-worn path. The inside is barely large enough to accommodate the mostly hand-made furnishings; a large bed at one end of the room, with the fireplace, stove, table and chairs at the other. It is plain, but it serves it’s purpose!