Saying Goodbye to our Mountain Cabin

The first thing I do when we walk in the door of our cabin in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley is fill the hummingbird feeder. Ok, that’s not entirely true. Every time I step through this door sets off a flurry of organizing, rearranging, inventorying, and cleaning--the work of a short-term rental cabin owner is never done. This time is different, though--it’s our last time here. At least, it should be different. Whether or not I refill the Keurig dispenser or reorganize the linen cupboard, this will all belong to someone else in a week’s time. All the work I do here now--vacuuming the crumbs under the couch, washing the shower curtain, replacing a lightbulb in the bathroom--will most likely go unnoticed. I do it anyway.

After all that, the next thing I do is fill the hummingbird feeder. Then I wait. It takes a little while for them to find it. If you sit quietly you can hear them before you see them--they really do hum. I spend some time filming them. I try making a slow-motion video, but am disappointed when watching it back that you can’t even tell. Their wings beat so quickly that even slowed down it still looks normal. They do eventually rest, though. One perches on top of the feeder, surveying its kingdom. 

We’re a bit the same, the hummingbird and me. A flurry of activity, and then a rest to look around. Before we leave I will take the feeder back down so it doesn’t get moldy. There will be no poisoned hummingbirds on my watch. I always feel bad, though. They just found it, and for a short time developed an attachment to it. Came to depend on it. Maybe they even loved it, and claimed it as their own. It was their own place they could come to when they wanted to get away, and then sit on their perch and take in that breathtaking view. What will they do when it’s gone? 

Like the hummingbirds, we will also migrate soon, hence the reason for selling this beloved little cabin. The hummingbirds will go south, and we will go west, to California. Apparently, the hummingbirds in California don’t migrate. They stay there their whole lives. It remains to be seen if this will be true for us as well, but I have a good feeling about it. After all, we’re a little bit the same, the hummingbird and me. We both work hard (at least in short bursts) and have a bit of a sweet tooth (although I do stop short of drinking sugar water), and at the end of a season, we will both set out in search of a place we can call home. 

The cabin’s Airbnb listing, tips for hikes, and local restaurant recommendations can be found below. Thanks for your support.