I could sit on my deck in the mornings and see the lake through the trees’ straight trunks.Īmy had told me that once a week, there would be a man who would come to deliver wood.
There were pines everywhere around the cabin, and beyond the pines, there was a lake to the east. In the mornings I would get up with the sound of woodpeckers at work. The cabin was owned by former first daughter Amy Carter, who had grown up awkwardly before our nation’s eyes. A few years ago I spent a month in a cabin in Montana, my dog Curly as my only companion.
