The Last of the Storm

A few weeks ago Scott mentioned the old cabin being the last real remaining eyesore from Hurrican Helene in A New Chapter: Silver Linings. He also mentioned we were on a list to have it demolished through a disaster program set up by the county. We stayed patient but the reality was it was a year later and we hadn't really heard anything. We'd all but given up on the idea that the old cabin would be removed without us having to figure out a way to pay the tens of thousands of dollars it would've cost or how we'd even get the massive machines up the fragile drive to get to it.

A mudslide brought massive trees with it, piercing through the cabin walls.

Just as we were sure the county had forgotten about us we received a message letting us know they'd start demolition soon. What a relief it was to know we'd finally be able to start the long and exciting process of rebuilding, or better yet, building something new. Long because we have so much to finish before we can begin the build; exciting because with any ending comes new beginnings and we're both so excited about what lies ahead for this perfect little slice of heaven!

The original cabin when we bought it in 2020

The original plan for the old cabin was to update it while leaving all the quarky details. A few of the rooms had these 1950's camp-like built-in bunkbeds and desks while other rooms were wrapped in wormy chestnut. The stove was original as were the windows and stone work. Once we closed on the property Scott's dad came out to give us an estimate for waterproofing under the cabin. That's when we found out that in order to save the structure we'd have to spend as much money rebuilding the crumbling foundation as we would building something new and sound. We decided we'd put the old cabin on the back burner and focus our attention on the pole barn buildout.

For the 4 years we owned the property up until the storm we used the screened-in porch area as a makeshift workshop during the beautiful Spring and Summer days while the inside of the cabin remained untouched. We used the rickety old picnic table out front as a temporary saw horse and the porch as the perfect place to keep our beverages cold since it was covered and no sun ever touched it. We were ok with it like that until we figured out what our next step would be. We waited to hear from them after giving some basic tips and lay of the land. Then, 3 days later, we received this photo with the caption "All done".

The "Wishbone Fireplace" rises like a phoenix out of the soggy ground of where the old cabin once stood.

As I write this Scott is heading back to Charlotte from seeing it for the first time after the demolition. I couldn't go. I need more time to process the images and let the land heal a bit more before I go back and see it with my own eyes.

The old cabin is the last reminder of the storm. It's a reminder of how devastatingly quick life can change. It's a reminder of how we perservered and pushed through and supported each other through the tears and sweat, the mud and rain, the freezing temperatures, the scrapes, cuts, bruises, and smashed fingers. The nights we laid flat on our cabin floor too exhausted and beat up to even untie our muddy, wet-sock-filled boots after days and days on end spent untangling the giant mess that was left behind. It's a reminder that we aren't really in control of anything in this life and to me that's freeing. And now it's gone. Nothing more to see from the storm we didn't know was coming but couldn't avoid missing.

The land will recover and so will we. We will do what we've done so many times before: work together to overcome the obstacle in front of us. We'll sit around our bonfire in the garden this Winter and we'll talk about it, we'll come up with ideas and get so excited that we'll need to stand up and give physical descriptions. We'll draw everything out then throw it away and redraw it. We'll high-five each other when we figure out the little fun details. That's what we do. Then, eventually the dust will settle, the grass will cover the mud and, like so many times before, we'll sit around another bonfire while peering out over our latest creation.

Until then.

Joey and Scott - the Last of the Storm - Hurrican Helene recovery