I spent the day with a friend at a cabin that he owns. If you were ever curious about the specific location of the actual “middle of nowhere,” I saw it and it’s beautiful. We removed some branches that had fallen across the access road. When I say branches, what I mean is that we used a chainsaw to cut up some giant logs. When I say access road, what I mean is the path along the river that the turkeys made. The river, free from the icy grip of winter, was swollen with the potential of spring. We sat on the porch and played some classic bluegrass songs. It was paradise. Also, we played the song Paradise by John Prine. If I had to spend the rest of my life confined to one spot, his cabin would be a good choice,
