McKenna Snow
Class of 2024

(6/2021) Take away the smart phones. Take away the TVs, too. Add some tall, grey-striped trees outside, and maybe a lake—is it frozen over? I would think so, given the climate outside. It is cold, and the world is enveloped in an ongoing blizzard that refuses to simply "pass through." The thick blanket of snow absorbs the sounds of the forest and makes everything perfectly silent except for the bright red cardinal birds singing in the fir trees. There is a range of mountains in the background, looming over the cabin. The cabin resides in the valley, with a single line of smoke emerging from the bright chimney.

When you go inside, the cabin has old furniture that’s well-maintained for the visitors. These current visitors have made quite a mess with all their luggage—there’s ten of them, after all. They brought a lot of suitcases. And blankets.

As you enter in, the chill of outside begins to sink away as the warmth from the crackling fireplace soaks into your snow-dusted coat. You smell the burning wood, combined with freshly-brewed coffee. It’s ten in the morning. This family likes to consume a lot of coffee, and they’re making their second pot of the day. The aroma of their delightful drink wafts through the air, drawing you to the kitchen.

The kitchen is little—this cabin really wasn’t meant for more than six guests at a time, but this family’s used to tight kitchens—and it’s a little hazy because of the smoke coming from the griddle on the gas stove. About twelve pancakes are sizzling on the griddle, the second round of them. The dad of the visiting family has pancake-cooking down to an exact science. Same with soft-boiled eggs and bacon. Those delights were made perfectly to accompany the fluffy vanilla-scented pancakes.

The youngest three children are helping set the dark-stained wood table with disposable napkins. The thirteen-year-old sister is in charge of getting orange juice or coffee for everyone, and setting the cups at the table.

Once everything has been made, all that is missing is the wax candles lit all down the table, and a CD player of "breakfast classical music," the title which the children use affectionately when asking for Vivaldi. The oldest sister helps turn on the music, and a symphony of violins and cellos fills the bottom half of the two-story cabin. The mom calls that breakfast is ready, and all the kids who were not downstairs helping make breakfast come running down the stairs to fill the little dining room.

The family then enjoys a breakfast completely undistracted from the outside world. The dad does not check the news on his phone while he eats. The sisters aren’t bickering about their hair or something trivial about school. The little kids are behaving, eating their food, sitting pretty still, with all things considered. And conversation is shared by all, joyfully, about the plans of the day, and of the whole vacation. The family maps it all out verbally to one another, talking about everything they want to do while they’re here away from regular life.

The oldest brother and sisters want to go skiing. The sisters are also highly interested in shopping for locally-made beanies, even though the nearest town is a solid twenty miles away. The dad is interested in ice fishing, and the little kids just want to play in the snow. The mom wants to read the books she brought along with her by the fireplace with a good cup of coffee, and take a break from driving her kids everywhere. They also all decide unanimously on holding a game night on the upcoming Friday, in which they’ll play a lot of different card games, after the little kids have gone to sleep.

The family maps it all out, and they decide that with this six-day-long vacation—the longest one they can snag given their busy schedule in the real world—they’ll be able to hit everyone’s wants one by one.

The first day, they all go skiing. They brought the gear themselves, rented from the town they stopped at on their way to the cabin. They locate the best place on the mountain to start, not too hard for those in the family who are less-experienced than others, and they ski away. It’s a long hike up the mountain again after they’ve gone down it, so after a couple of trips, everyone is worn out and ready to return to the cabin.

Back at the cabin, they make hearty mugs of hot chocolate for everyone, a fire is kindled and crackling as they all defrost from the snowy outdoors. The little kids, all wrapped up in the thick blankets they had bought, fall asleep on the couch, so the older members of the family start their Game Night early and play cards. It was a very successful first day to the vacation.

The remaining days are spent just as they hoped, starting off with a hearty breakfast, and a lot of coffee. The dad was able to go fishing (he was very successful), the mom got in lots of good reading and resting, the older siblings skied a significant amount, and the little kids had a wonderful time playing in the snow. Day after day, they spent it together, enjoying this little slice of Narnia-like winter wonderland, their imaginations blooming. A lot of hot chocolate was consumed every day after coming inside from the snow. The Game Night they planned on never really happened, because they ended up playing cards every night, by the fire, listening to more classical music on CD. On the drive home, the girls stopped at the local store, and bought hand-knit beanies, to remember the trip by. It was the best break from the "real world" that any family could have asked for.

This is very much a dream vacation of mine, because my family has never rented a cabin in the woods like this, but someday I hope we can. I feel like we’ve got a pretty good head-start on this experience though; after all, we are the Snows, and we love C.S. Lewis’ Narnia books, and we love having breakfast together on Saturdays, with classical music.