I grew up on a farm that you could say was just a around the corner from the cabin on Townline Rd.  Barb was my Dad's niece, and our cousin. In the days when the chores were all done, hay baled and cows milked. Dad never refused when we asked to go to the 'cabin'.  Of course it had to be weekends, back then you only worked monday thru Friday.  I remember the stone steps dug into the hill leading down to the creek.  Collecting mint  leaves growing along the creek bed, so Barb could make mint jelly. Sitting around a camp fire making jiffy pop.  I was in awe of the cabin, could not figure how Jim could just build it with just the trees in the woods.  As I got older I realized Jim was a strong person in every sense of the word.  Also a private person, needing to do things his way. He took care of Barb to the very end.  You could tell how much he loved her.  Over the years we have all lost touch, but the memories are still there every time i drive down the Townline Rd.  They make me smile and I tell my girls about the 'Cabin' in the woods.