of clouds and cabins

The old adage, ‘everything happens for a reason’ never seems to let itself down. Of course, when you’re tearing your hair out in frustration at a situation, this offers a measly glimmer of hope. But it’s true. In my experience (most) things do happen for a reason, even if that reason doesn’t reveal itself when you really want it to. It’s asking you to trust in something bigger than yourself, especially when things get tough.

The cabin reminded us of this today. Doc and Steve have been building as often as they can. Spring seems to be flexing its muscles in earnest. Everything is a constant flurry of activity, things happening all at once, the minutiae of life demanding our undivided attention. Exciting developments are also afoot and these too inevitably keep us occupied and apply pressure. There is a lot going on, to say the least. So building work on the cabin has been taking place as often as possible in this atmosphere of head-spinning activity.

The wooden OSB boards we’re using for the inner casing for the walls and roof are up. The plan has been to then use a type of oxidised corrugated metal for the outside, to go over the OSB boards, and give the cabin the lovely rusted look we’re so fond of. But these sheets of iron-ox corrugated metal have to be specially ordered and they’re not cheap so we’ve been waiting to save some money. Not easy when the minutiae of life I mentioned earlier involves things breaking on us all at once, requiring the spending of money on new material to fix them. Big things, like gates. So we figured we’d wait till life had calmed down a bit before ordering the iron-ox corrugated metal.

And then rain was forecast. Rain in the desert is a glorious gift from the gods. But not when the wooden OSB boards on our cabin would be completely ruined if left unprotected or uncovered. With no iron-ox sheets to fix onto the walls, our beloved vision required adapting to the immediate demands of the weather and making do with what was available. Sometimes life demands a compromise, a letting go. And you have to listen to it, trust in it and act. We decided on the less expensive – but just as hardy – and immediately available, corrugated metal. The shiny sort, without any oxidation. Unsure that we’d even get it done before the rains came, an exhausted Doc was on the verge of calling time on the whole thing. Understandably, when you’ve been physically pushing yourself to your limit every day only to face the possibility of your creation being destroyed in one fell swoop. For a cruel moment, it all seemed like a pointless waste of time, energy and money. But it’s these very moments that spur you on, that let the light in.

Doc and Steve got to work, and they worked. The bloated storm clouds relieved themselves but not for long. The men cut sheets of metal to size and meticulously attached them to the wooden boards. And the result is this magnificently badass-looking desert dwelling. We think so anyway.

Everything happens for a reason. If it hadn’t been for the imminent rain that threatened to ruin the fruits of our labour, we would have waited and bought the perfectly oxidised metal. But as it is, we had to ride the wave of things beyond our control, and act. The cabin’s shining exterior now reflects this desert’s other-wordly light and shifting colours, the shadows on the mountains. We might even do some oxidation of our own in patches. Or we might not.

More rain might come and the roof is yet to be protected. Everyone is tired. But for now, the pleasure of simply looking at the cabin and the gratitude from this lesson of acting through letting go and trusting, will suffice.