Bubbles at Steep Ravine

Dorothea Lange, before she died, wanted to put together a book about living in one of these cabins at Steep Ravine. She wanted to express freedom and of living very simply and close to the elements.
I think she would have loved to see these bubbles sailing over the ravine--some going on and on till we couldn't see them any more...












With the lid of our kitchen box--(very important to have a lidded container for food and dishes--the mice came in each night!--we got very good at keeping things cleaned and put away before bedtime--but then the mice started to nibble on my granddaughter's doll!--I'll tell you about that later) so, with this precious lid, the bubbles were ever so gently wafted up high enough to make it over bushes, house tops and stovepipes--set free to sail over the cliff, over the ocean, where the breaking waves sent up a jet of air that jiggled and wiggled the bubbles and on they went, some to the beach below, others sailed so high that I'm sure motorists could see them riding by on Rt. 1


Some didn't make it very far at all.

After Dorothea Lange's death, Margaretta Mitchell , A photographer, writer and friend, saw to it that a book was made. With her own poetry and pictures from both she and Dorothea, Margaretta put together a peaceful little book that captures the essence of what it's like to live there in a cabin by the sea. The book, To a Cabin, is a combination of photographs and writings of both women. There are lovely black and white photos of the same cabins I've stayed in with my family. Even though the pictures are from the 60's and early 70's, much looks and feels the same!

Yellowed with age, nailed on the wall under a broken piece of Plexiglas, in cabin #2 are written these words by Margaretta K Mitchell:

Here is
A different state of being
where a morning cobweb becomes a fairy handkerchief
where I can lie against sand and stone
Face the rim of the globe
Feel waves wash over me
and crisp breezes refresh my skin
Listen to children's laughter like blowing bells
Watch dogs race the beach with numb joy
Know "freezing quiet" (Anne says)
Smell the spices of the season
(it is early spring now)

I awaken
by the ocean
in a cabin
gazing seaward

TO A CABIN II
Margaretta K. Mitchell