There are two lovely twin beds up here, along with a small chest of drawers. I climb up here to do my morning exercises. Then after dinner, after the sun finally sets, I come up for inspiration. You see…in the ten years that we have been coming here I have written parts of three different novels sitting in this chair. It’s not the only place I write while in Maine. But, whenever I’m feeling blocked, this is the place I come to. There is magic in that chair. I bring a snack and a small can of Ginger Ale. I close my eyes then open them and look out the window at the lake and…poof…unblocked.
The only trouble is that the chair is a rocker and when you use the chair as intended, it has a squeak, not a loud and obnoxious one, but a squeak nonetheless. Pam, who is usually sitting down stairs right below me on the sofa doing her latest cross-stitch project, will sometimes complain about the noise. When she does I try to sit still while I write, something that isn’t easy to do. After a couple hours of productive creation, I will climb down the stairs until next time.
It is just one of the many magical details of Loon Landing, this small but elegant escape from the harsh realities of the world.
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