It's in the Light
We call this neat little antique structure, which is made from hand hewn logs and sits just few feet away from The Shack, the Cat Cabin (you can see more of it, including how it's slowly sinking into the ground, here and here). The grandson of the couple my hunky farmguy Joe bought this farm from 20 years ago (who also happens to be the donkey peddling cowboy) told me that his grandmother always referred to it as The Smokehouse.
Two elderly brothers in overalls, who showed up one day a few years ago to visit and reminisce because they were related to an even earlier owner of the property, told me that at one point there were 13 children down here and this was the boys bunkhouse. (I can't remember now exactly when this was, and just how these two entertaining old guys were related to them, but I have it all written down somewhere.) I asked if there had been some kind of chinking between the logs back then, since it would have been awfully drafty in the winter. They couldn't remember, since neither of them had been down here since they were kids in the 1930s.
