The Triangle House

We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin. I sat in the bed of the dogsled, him on the runners, our dogs out front as they ascended the snowy driveway at a decent trot. We had been traveling for about 45 minutes, and the snow was coming down pretty steady. We were all ready to get inside and start a warm fire.

He clicked his teeth a few times, “C’mon guys, you can do it! Almost there!” he encouraged the dogs. I felt his hand on my shoulder, squeeze gently as we ascended the hill, sure and steady.

This is when I love him most, I thought to myself. He is so good with them, in his element, sturdy and strong, and those dogs respect him.

I felt a warm flood of appreciation for my husband wash over me, appreciation for our dogs, and it took everything in me to fight back the tears forming behind my eyes.

It had been a hard year. We were stuck in survival mode for most of it. Changes dropped every few months, and we tried to take it in stride, but there comes a point when it just gets so damn heavy.

When our girl died, at the end of fall, a part of me died. He knew this too. She had been my best friend, and his loyal partner. Through his own tears he confided in me last week; “You don’t know how hard it was for me! To carry her still body out to the vet’s car! To have to let her go...” At that moment, I realized that we all had been carrying the heavy grief of our oldest dog passing.

He set the snow anchor and the dogs looked back at us, tails wagging, happy to have gotten us to our A framed destination. It had been his idea, but he wouldn’t give me details. “Pack warm clothes babe, and your snow pants. I’ll take care of the rest.” So I did.

There was a simple balsam wreath on the door, but it looked like it had been created from “local” boughs. I inspected it, and was immediately flooded with the scent of juniper berries, cedar, white pine and fresh pine cones. I appreciate these things.

He opened the door for me and we were greeted by a glowing Christmas tree, a cold, waiting woodstove in the living room, and a cozy kitchen. I climbed the ladder to discover a cozy loft, unconcerned about the snow I was tracking in on my boots, and flopped down on the massive king bed. It was decked in black and red buffalo plaid flannel blankets. Immediately, I couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

He poked his head up the ladder and smiled warmly, the sight of me test driving the bed in snow pants, boots, parka and mittens.

“All in good time” he teased. “Can you help me get the bags out of the sled and hook up the dogs?”

Outside it was still snowing. We each grabbed our bags and he took the heavy sack of dog food and supplies. I grabbed the groceries; wine, coffee, some IPA for him, and of course fresh eggs from our hens at home.

“You know” I said to him, “this house reminds me so much of ‘the Triangle House’! Isn’t that funny?” Our home in the southern Adirondacks for 4 years had been an old A frame house that was where we started our family. Dogs, daughters, and chickens. In that order. My oldest daughter affectionately nicknamed it ‘The Triangle House’.

“I thought the same thing” he smiled as he heaved the bags over his shoulder.

Funny how themes follow you throughout your life.

After a soothing home cooked dinner, a few drinks, and some open conversation, we finally drifted off to bed at the unglamorous hour of 9:30pm. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Today was filled with cold travel. It was wonderful to snuggle into that massive flannel-decked bed and drift off to sleep.

At 2am though, the moon had other plans. She shone like a spotlight through the massive windows of the A frame and woke me from a fading dream. I got out of bed, put the tea kettle on and found a packet of chamomile in the cabinet of the surprisingly well stocked kitchen.

The dogs were sleeping in the living room, upside down, sprawled out on the well loved shag rug in the middle of the floor. I clicked on a lamp in the corner of the room, chamomile in hand, and curled up to sip it and enjoy the peace of a sleeping house - whether it was mine or not.

The sun and the moon had similar agendas in this house. The moon woke me in the middle of the night, and the pinky orange glow of the rising sun in the morning was determined to do a similar number. But the power of those soft flannel blankets sucked me into the bed and I stayed sound asleep until he kissed my cheek and the smell of fresh coffee wafted up to the loft.

“Are you ready to meet our girl?” he asked me, a reassuring grin on his face. I nodded sleepily, and remembered what we had come for. Happy, but slightly melancholy, tears started to form again. Before they could trail down my cheeks, he kissed them away. And I noticed his blue eyes were a bit misty too. “Yes. Let’s go get our girl” I replied.

It was a short dog sled ride to our new friend’s house, maybe 25 minutes. This time he let me drive the dogsled. It’s quite a different feeling! Intoxicating really. Places where the trail is close and cozy, where the bows from pine and cedar try to brush your cheeks. We trotted alongside a river for about 10 minutes, and my focus was on the dog's gait, but also the beauty of snowy river stones. It was like being in a postcard. And there’s the hush… the quiet enveloping you while being on the runners of a vintage Ash dogsled. There’s nothing quite like it.

The barn showed itself first. Bright red against the white snowy fields, and a surge of excitement took over my heart. ‘Deep breaths…’ I told the voice in my head. We could hear happy barking and see the shapes of gray and black dogs running alongside the perimeter of the barn. We parked our small sled team by her house, and walked over to the barn where she had asked us to meet her.

He slipped his gloved hand in mine, which needed no gloves, and squeezed my fingers tight.

Inside the barn it was warm, the smell of a wood stove, straw, and grain fused together. I could hear puppy barking, the dominant sound around us. We called out our “hellos” and made our way to their happy noises.

Our friend stood before us, a first time meeting for us both, but instant camaraderie. In her arms she held a beautiful sable puppy, with a red collar around her neck. I couldn’t fight back the happy tears as she placed her in my arms.

When I look back at my life, there are moments that are pivotal points, directing us forward from there. I remember the feeling the first time an A frame changed my life. I remember bringing my infant daughter home for the first time, the second positive pregnancy test, the rescued sled dogs, the baby chicks in the coop out back. And now, 7 years later, another A frame, the catalyst for a new direction in life’s journey. Like dogsled tracks on a snowy trail, we move into a fantastic new future, a new moon overhead, and joy in our hearts as we realize she found us again.