The use of the word “cabin” does not refer to a specific physical description or object. Our first cabin would have fit inside one-third of one floor of our second cabin, which we’ve been in since 2004. Our first cabin was seasonal with a wood stove and a water well that hibernated for seven months of the year. They are both cabins (and both in the Aitkin area).

A cabin is a state of mind, a feeling, an attitude, not just a description of a physical structure.

Sometimes people will refer to other people’s cabins as their second home or their lake home — a residence in a different location. Ours feels like something more.

One of our children who has never known life without a cabin slept through the first half of most of our Friday evening drives up to the cabin.

On one trip when he was perhaps 3, he awoke a bit over half of the way Up North and, after looking around groggily at the passing trees and lakes, inquired “Are we in-cabin world yet?” That is the essence of our cabin.

It is otherworldly. Our grandchildren now commonly refer to “cabin world.”

Things move at a different pace. You sleep when you feel like sleeping. You wear comfortable clothes and feel quite relaxed about “going to town” dressed as you are. If you feel like sitting and doing nothing in particular? Fine. You normally provide one of the variants of the “steering wheel wave” to anyone and everyone that you pass while driving down the lake road. It is expected that there is almost always time to stop and chat.

A cabin is a gathering place for friends, family, and extended family. A place to meet, to renew, to grow old together while sharing the most precious of gifts: time.

We look forward to our “cabin world” and we hope that you will enjoy your time. Put your feet up, have a bite to eat, fish if you want, relax, and visit.

BOB KARLS, ST. PAUL