This is the last cabin in a string of 3 at camp (starting at the boat house). Each child of my father's generation had sleeping cabins built for them when they got married. This one was for my Aunt Frances (we called her Aunt Frankie. I wonder if she liked that? She never corrected us) and her husband Horace. Molly and I, in our impudent college years nicknamed them Pinky and Horrible. We had nasty names for all of our aunts and uncles. snotty snotty pooh pooh pants.
Anyway, myth has it that Frances did not want a cabin anything like the others so she insisted on hiring different builders. The rest were build by "boys from the mill." Hers was built by Swiss builders, hence the curved roof. Who knows if they were really Swiss, but they were NOT boys from the mill. Anyway, from this angle the cabin looks a little pathetic. It looks as if there should be a witch with an oven for little children inside. It's right on the water, though, so you can hear lake sounds all night. Very dark inside--very dark, sort of like Horrible was.
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