MJOxrieder's Whimsy

Dabbling in the studio
Thunder Creek Cabin by Mary Jo Oxrieder, Raven Rocks Studio Story: We were completely lost. Foolish people, we’d taken the “scenic route.” And we knew nothing of mountain roads. It was all a grand adventure in the beginning. We took it slow, pulled over at the incredible views, picnicked with the ground falling away forever at our feet. By late afternoon we’d left the deep drop offs and were wandering through woods and meadows with a dancing stream at our side but our enthusiasm was flagging and we wanted to know we were heading home.  The map was now useless, the cell phones out of service – if we could just ask directions of someone! With evening, the final straw - thunderheads boiled over a hill darkening the sky with a roaring wind and deluge of rain following. Now we could barely see the road. Out of nowhere, a softly lit lamp marked a wild flower trimmed driveway – the first sign of people we’d seen all day. Without hesitation we pulled in. It led us to the sweetest place – windows glowing warm in the dark and wet. The people who lived there insisted that we come into their home. They wrapped us up with their warm welcome, insisted we share their  just-cooked stew, freshly baked bread and marshmallow-topped hot chocolate. As the thunder boomed and lightning flashed, they showed us on their large wall map where we’d journeyed that day and how to find our way back home. But that was only the beginning. We made such good friends, that Thunder Creek and the little cabin were often the final destination for a day of adventuring.

Thunder Creek Cabin

by Mary Jo Oxrieder, Raven Rocks Studio

Story:

We were completely lost. Foolish people, we’d taken the “scenic route.” And we knew nothing of mountain roads. It was all a grand adventure in the beginning. We took it slow, pulled over at the incredible views, picnicked with the ground falling away forever at our feet. By late afternoon we’d left the deep drop offs and were wandering through woods and meadows with a dancing stream at our side but our enthusiasm was flagging and we wanted to know we were heading home.  The map was now useless, the cell phones out of service – if we could just ask directions of someone! With evening, the final straw - thunderheads boiled over a hill darkening the sky with a roaring wind and deluge of rain following. Now we could barely see the road.

Out of nowhere, a softly lit lamp marked a wild flower trimmed driveway – the first sign of people we’d seen all day. Without hesitation we pulled in. It led us to the sweetest place – windows glowing warm in the dark and wet. The people who lived there insisted that we come into their home. They wrapped us up with their warm welcome, insisted we share their  just-cooked stew, freshly baked bread and marshmallow-topped hot chocolate. As the thunder boomed and lightning flashed, they showed us on their large wall map where we’d journeyed that day and how to find our way back home. But that was only the beginning. We made such good friends, that Thunder Creek and the little cabin were often the final destination for a day of adventuring.

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