A cabin story · Chapter one
Forty acres of forest, a wood stove that actually works, and a hot tub under a sky full of stars. Come slow down for a few days.
Prologue
“We built this cabin by hand over three summers. Every board, every window, every awkward shelf. It’s not perfect, and that’s the point.”
Hannah & June, Hosts
You pass a hand-painted sign, cross a little wooden bridge, and there it is at the end of the lane. Smoke curling from the chimney, a lantern glowing on the porch. The keys are waiting under the mat. You're the only guests for miles.
Inside, everything smells faintly of cedar and last night's fire. There's a stack of books by the sofa, a wool throw over the arm, and a note on the counter with the wifi password and where to find the good mugs. Take off your boots. You're home.
The bedroom is small and warm: linen sheets, a window framing the pines, a lamp for late-night reading. No traffic, no notifications. Just the slow patter of pine needles on the roof and the smell of coffee from downstairs.
Cast iron on the hook, a wooden board for the bread you picked up in town, the good olive oil already open. There is a proper stove, real knives, and enough counter space for two people to move around without stepping on each other.
String lights over the deck, a cedar tub warmed to just-so, and a sky so black the Milky Way looks painted on. Bring your glass of wine. Stay out longer than you meant to.
What's inside
Just outside
40 acres, 12 miles of trail
A 10-minute walk with a canoe waiting
Epilogue
Two-night minimum. Small dogs welcome. The fire will be laid.
Book your stay