This is what I see through the cabin window. At night, of course, it is totally black. The cabin is not insulated so that when it gets chilly at night I am very glad of the baseboard heater. Last night here beside the lake I am told by my iPad that it dipped to 5 degrees. An uninsulated cabin where the iPad works? Yes, I pick up the signal from the “big house” next door. There is no lock on my door and there is a gap of about half an inch under it. where an enterprising mouse might decide to venture. In fact, after the one time when I did spot a little grey mouse in here, I have only seen ants, the occasional moth, a mosquito or two. I suppose he heard me stamping about and fled to quieter quarters in the whispering leaf-scented wood. I can see the shimmering lake through another window. Today the water is moving right to left which means a North wind. Still cold enough for a sweater and a touch of warmth from the radiator. My cabin, unlike the big house, sits in shade a lot of the time and so it has that cool,damp atmosphere of summer houses. What keeps me from sleeping in the full outdoors? A few flimsy walls, the thin door, sash windows with single panes, the shingled roof. The trees are close by the leaves swaying and trembling close to my face. Last night I got into bed and discovered that I had left the little light over the door burning. The sight of the gnarled birch trunk illuminated and close, close to my window was too much. I had to get up and turn it off. And then total silence and total blackness. What does Dylan Thomas say? “I got into bed, I said some words to the close and holy darkness, and then I slept.” Not quite right but you must find the quote by yourself