I turned the car off, and we stepped out into the mellow air of the season.
"Wow, a log house!" Sophia exclaimed, as I walked around to the back of the SUV to grab a couple of bags. "Did you build it yourself, Jack?"
"No," I replied. "I was going to, but I found a small company that was closing down. I agreed to purchase all of the logs they had, and they gave me a great deal on building this from my plans. I still have enough logs left to hire someone to build the garage at some point, or maybe I'll do it myself. It's not important at the moment."
Portia took the remaining luggage and followed me to the front porch. I set the bags down and fumbled for my keys, when a barred owl hooted with the familiar, "Who cooks for you; who cooks for you all" call, from a half mile away or so. I smiled, and put my keys back in my pocket.
"C'mon," I said, as I motioned for them to follow me back into the front yard. "I'll see if I can call him in."
I put my hands on either side of my mouth, and called back in a perfect mimic of the bird's own call. It responded in a few seconds, so I replied with a friendly "hoo-ahh!" and waited. Several seconds later, it called out again, this time from the edge of the woods.
"He knows it's me." I said to Portia and Sophia. "Let's see if he'll come in closer."
I repeated the call, and a quiet, whooshing silhouette sailed overhead, as the bird swooped in and landed on the lamppost about twenty feet away.
"Be still and quiet." I said in a hushed tone.
The bird swiveled its head around a few times, and then seemed to home in on something further out in the grass. It spread its wings and after a few flaps, glided in silently striking the ground and taking off again. A faint squeal could be heard, as the owl headed back toward the forest with a vole clutched in its talons.
"Dinner for Woodsy." I remarked, as we returned to the front porch. "Between the owls and the cats, they really help keep the mice and snakes down around here. Speaking of cats, I hear them on the other side of the door."
I unlocked the sturdy oak door and the strong aroma of eastern red cedar wafted out of the house. We were also immediately besieged by a group of excited and meowing cats. I hadn't expected to have been gone this long, and despite my filling their food and water bowls to the brim, the food was all gone.
"Who wants some FOO-ood?!" called out.
This elicited even more feverish yowling; particularly from a large, gray, bibbed-tuxedo Norwegian forest cat named Loki. They circled around me like furry barracudas, as I opened the plastic container that held the large bag of dry food.
"Here you go!" I said with a laugh, as I filled the large stainless steel salad bowl with more cat food. "Sorry Guys!"
The cats quieted down, and I turned back to my guests.
"I'll introduce you later." I said with a smile, as I switched on the overhead light.
The area had been dimly illuminated by a nightlight along the open staircase that led to the second floor, but now, the entire open space was clearly visible.
"This is beautiful!" Portia marveled, as she glanced around.
"And it smells so good!" Sophia piped up enthusiastically. "It smells just like that gift shop at the cavern this morning."
This morning! It seemed like a week ago, with all of the excitement we'd had today. I left the door open, as I picked up the luggage and moved it into the vestibule.
"Home, sweet cabin!" I said exuberantly. "I told you it would smell nice. I've gotten used to it; you will too, but it gets in my clothes and everything. I don't ever need to worry about cologne."
I reached to close the door, when a medium sized black and white animal about the size of Loki came darting in and chittered at me, before making a beeline for the food as well. He muscled his way in for something to eat, just like he was a member of the family.
"That's a funny-looking kitty." Sophia remarked. "Look at the nose on him, Mama. He looks like a poofy, zebra-possum."
Portia looked startled and gasped, as she recognized the animal.
"Mama Mia; la moffetta!" she exclaimed. "Quello non è un gatto, Sophia!"
Now as I said earlier, my Italian isn't so hot, but I recognize a lot of root words. In French, it's la mouffette; close enough. She knew full well what had just wandered inside the house, and like most people, panicked at the sight of a polecat.
"That's Earl." I explained. "He's a skunk, or what we call it here in the South, a polecat."
"I know what the fuck he is!" Portia hollered. "We have them in Europe too. Why is he inside the house?!"
"He likes cat food, I reckon." I replied. "He's probably hungry too. Skunks get a bad rap. They're actually pretty friendly, and they go after rodents, snakes and even hornet nests. Earl is the only one left - out of his family - so he hangs around the yard a lot."
"He's not dangerous?" she inquired dubiously. "You don't think that he will spray us?"
"No." I laughed. "Skunks are in the weasel family, but they aren't hostile. They also won't spray unless they have to. It takes a week or so to recharge, so they won't waste it on an angry moment. I'll check on him before we go to bed, to see if he wants out."
Portia shook her head.
"You're weird Jack," she sighed, "but it fits you. Somehow, in some weird way, having a friendly skunk walk into your house and start eating Sunday dinner with your cats is exactly something you would do."
"C'mon," I said, placing my arm around her waist, "I'll show you around. Here's the living room, and on the end -- as you can see by all of the bookshelves - is the library."
"Wow," Sophia exclaimed, "look at all of those books! It looks just like that library scene from 'Fahrenheit 451.'"
"Like I told you, you're welcome to read them." I responded. "Now, if you look out through these windows, this is the million dollar view during the day."
The full moon had now risen high enough to illuminate the landscape in a pale, bluish-white glow. The mountains were clearly visible across the river valley, although nowhere nearly as impressive as they would be once it got light.
"Oh Jack," Portia breathed, "this is beautiful; even in the dark. It's not the Dolomites, but it feels a lot like where my family is from, in the North. This will feel much more like home, than if we'd stayed in Washington."
"I'm glad you approve," I said, giving her a slight squeeze, "because this is going to be home for the next little while. Speaking of that, there is the kitchen. I'm sure you'll want to cook at some point, so I'll show you how to use the stove. I'm sure it's a lot different from that weird Euro stuff you have to contend with over there.
"Around the only downstairs wall, is the laundry area and the bathroom. It's a full bath; so is the one upstairs, so two can use the bathroom at the same time if needed. I don't really need a bath and shower downstairs, but in case I ever have visitors - or I get really old and turn the library into a bedroom - I thought it was the way to go."
"This is so cool." Portia marveled. "It's not really a big house, but the way it is so open, it feels much bigger, yet it's still cozy at the same time, with that one wall in the kitchen. Who designed this for you?"
I smiled, and let out a slight laugh.
"It's a Guy Fawkes original." I replied with a grin, as I led them toward the open staircase. "I have the original drawings on graph paper, framed. I designed this house when I was a kid. It's meant to be built into a hill, or in this case, a ridge. The ridge curves a bit, so all I had to do, was start walking until I had the angle and view I wanted, and start digging. It worked perfectly."
"How old were you when you designed it?" Sophia asked curiously.
"About your age." I replied. "It was part of a social studies project. We were all supposed to design a house. Most everyone else just drew some stuff out on a sheet of paper -- lucky to even use a ruler -- but Dad had these sheets of graph paper that let me lay it out evenly. It even let me use each tiny cube as six inches, so I made the walls six inches thick on paper. He showed me how to mark where the doors and windows are. It's basically a construction blueprint; no electrical or plumbing, but the log company made copies and used them to stack the logs with the door and window spaces left out. I built this house as a farm outbuilding, so I didn't have to get any building permits. That means I didn't need actual blueprints either. They were shocked to learn that they were following plans that were literally drawn by a fourth grader, back in the 70s.
"Anyway, the next stop is upstairs. There's a nightlight built into this outlet on the landing, and there's another one in the hall at the top of the stairs. It's always lit up at night, so if you have to use the stairs, you don't need to fumble for the light switch and then wake everyone else up, if they've left their door open.
"Speaking of that, you'll see that all of the switches in this house are lighted rocker switches, so you can see them in the dark. I don't think you use toggle switches over there, so these should be familiar to you."
"What is that funny looking orange one for?" Sophia inquired, as I turned the hall light on.
"We use this type of switch here." I explained. "It's orange, because they are designed for hospitals. It shows it's a special type of circuit. Dad had a box of them, so I used them for my security lights. There is one in a central location on each level, including the basement. They turn on infrared spotlights that are mounted on every corner of the house. I thought the orange switch was a good code for infrared.
"If anything happens, you can activate them from any floor. To the naked eye, it's still pitch black out there, but through night vision, it's as bright as daylight; nowhere to hide. With a scoped rifle, it'd be like shooting fish in a barrel, or picking them off like flies."
