Until our stay at the cabin, I'd forgotten what silence feels like. Coming from the daily bustle of passing cars and leaf blowers, the feeling of opening a window and hearing nothing is surreal.
The feeling is further solidified by the ~15 minute drive down a gravel road, through small hills and farms and between two frozen lakes.
That said, the cabin isn't isolated. Maja's house is just up the gravel road, and she is a caring and concerned host. She checked in with us on our first day and was always helpful with any questions we had, from local shopping and food recommendations, to how well our plans would align with the weather forecasts.
The cabin is well-equipped with an arsenal of vacation information: an extensive list of day trips, a property map with walking paths, resources for weather updates. Checking the weather and road closures over breakfast became an unexpectedly fun ritual.
Driving up to the crest of the hill and seeing the little cabin, porch-light lit, at the end of a long day. Watching out of the loft window, half-awake, as the sky turns green and teal. Walking over to meet the horses. Eating a home-cooked meal while watching the evening sun light up the mountains.
These are the moments we hope to return to soon.