Snow White's Cabin

FOR SALE  BY OWNER 

Home on 1/2 acre between Taos and Angel Fire 

Now reduced!

in Valle Escondido

Phone (214) 556-6311 or (505) 758 9265  

E-mail LSonna@Yahoo.com  - include the word "interview" to avoid the junk mail filters. 

Charming home located 20 minutes from Taos, 10 minutes from Angel Fire, 1 minute from the gorgeously wild Garcia Park in beautiful Valle Escondido ("Hidden Valley"). Located in the heart of Kit Carson National Park. 

The locals call it "Snow White's Cabin," because it looks like something out of a fairy story. I fear that if I prick my finger and fall asleep, the wake-up kiss will be delivered by a bear or coyote. Not a lot of princes to be found in this neck of the forest, which is at 8,500 feet above sea level. Therefore, I have banished spinning wheels from my kingdom. But if you know of any knights in shining armored vehicles, send them my way. A Hummer would be nice. Automatic transmission preferred.

Front view of cabin, carport, and woodshed.

This was taken before the skies opened up and blanketed my kingdom in three feet of snow. I personally enclosed the area beneath the front porch by cutting saplings with my chain saw. I built the woodshed by cutting boards with my table saw. I am proud to say that I survived my first construction projects with my fingers, toes, and most of my pride intact. I've added a hardhat to my Christmas wish list.

Side yard.

144 families own homes here in Valle Escondido. Most are second homes, so there aren't a lot of humans in these parts. From September through December, the hunters come for the turkey, deer, and elk. Until May, it's just elk, deer, bears, coyotes, mountain lions, birds, and a sprinkling of locals who like to wallow in snow. Or so it was 3 years ago when I moved in. Houses have sprouted, and I now have neighbors.  

I'm not sure what the developers had in mind when they named this area 'Valle Escondido,' which means 'Hidden Valley.' The surrounding mountains tower around mine, so my mountain is in fact in a valley. The area is hidden from cell service and television (cable is available), so I am in fact hidden from some of the high tech conveniences I once enjoyed. But with the recent arrival of DSL, I am back in touch with the world. I get my TV and movie fixes online.

Backyard

Back view of cabin.

Living room, study, and back deck, viewed from the loft.

This picture certainly doesn't do it justice -- too much glare to photograph well. Because I'm a workaholic, I went with a desk and file cabinets rather than a kitchen table. I top the file cabinets with a tablecloth for company. Otherwise, I eat at my desk. I replaced the carpeting with wood flooring. A definite improvement!

My fabulous bathtub! It may seem a bit odd to have a stereo and desk in the bathroom, but when I write the book on decorating tiny spaces, I will explain the advantages. By then, I may have thought of some.

A toilet! A shower! A sink!

Each time I flush, I feel connected to the mainstream of American life.

Love my early 1900's stove!!

Apparently thermostats were a more recent invention. Burning dinner, I learned, has its benefits: It helps to heat the house. I placed a $2 oven thermostat from Wal-Mart inside and voila! I can eat  what I cook!

My darling kitchen sports a Saltillo tile countertop which I created by placing Saltillo tiles on the old countertop. Maybe someday I'll figure out how to glue and grout them. To see the fridge, scroll back to the pix of the living room. In my book, I will also explain about the advantages of having the fridge in the living room.

Henrietta lives in the fireplace, and relations with my iron-willed roomie have at times been strained. Between her insatiable appetite that keeps me running back and forth to the wood pile all day and all night, her propensity for belching undigested tidbits of ash into the air, and her incessant passing of gas, she is difficult. On the positive side, she has cured me of my pyromania. I no longer enjoy playing in candle wax or building fires of any type. Want to seduce me during a romantic interlude? Don't even think lighting a fire. Just sit me down in front of your furnace and show me your filters. When I'm fed up with feeding Henrietta, I go with Henry the electric heater or Gilbert, the gas heater. They are far less demanding. 

P.G. (Pretty Girl), my diminutive calico, sleeps and sheds on my rocking chair or in front of Henrietta. P.G. is therefore too busy to attend to the chipmunks living in the crawl space beneath the roof. Still, she manages to bring me daily presents she catches skittering about the forest. In my next incarnation, I may try a New York City penthouse to satisfy the cravings for asphalt and concrete that her gifts inspire.

Ha!! In this, my second winter in the mountains, I have beaten Henrietta at her own game! I ordered my wood supersized this winter, stocked up on high-quality kindling, bought fireplace matches, and put filters in the fireplace fan. Now that I don't spend my life prodding Henrietta's stomach,the house stays toasty for eight hours at a stretch without having to turn to Henry or Gilbert for help. Now that the glass door is closed, the house stays clean.

Sleeping loft with 6 x 10 foot sky light. 

The chance to star-watch in bed at night makes this whole venture worthwhile. The necessity of standing up during the day makes this whole venture seem ridiculous. To properly gauge the height, note that the bookcase next to the TV is 30" tall. The problem is my readaholism. No support groups for this particular addiction, and I can't bring myself to part with my 2,000-volume book collection.  Instead, I crouch. There are two places where it is possible to stand upright without risking a concussion: 1) directly in front of the blond book cases, and 2) on the bed, directly under the skylight. Why would I want to stand on the bed, you might ask? Because I can!! Why don't I ditch the books, you might ask? If you do, you're not paying attention, or get a kick out of hearing my admit I am hopelessly hooked on books. 

Sleeping loft.

Another view of the room with the fabulous views -- and my precious bookcases.

I still remember how I felt during my first weeks in paradise. Memories of warmer days still burn bright within my shivering chest. My neighbors have stowed their golf clubs, swim suits, and fishing poles. They have dusted off their skis, snowboards, snowshoes, snowmobiles, and assorted winter-wonderland paraphernalia. I have washed and folded my hammock and tucked it into the storage bins in the carport.

The cabin stays toasty, but motivating myself to set foot outside my door has proven overly challenging. While everyone else sweated bullets back in Dallas on the 110- degree summer days, I considered the temperature just right. And though the bears, owls, coyotes, deer, elk, and swarms of hummingbirds are great company, I fear I need friends of the human variety as well. The 20-minute drive to town is the perfect excuse for an introvert like me to stay home. One of my few remaining friends commented that I seem to be losing my social skills. Horrified to think she might be right, I immediately bathed and more: I combed my hair.

I've always been something of a recluse, but being a full-blown hermit has proved overly taxing. Accordingly, I've been checking the real estate ads for property in a locale populated by human beings. My trip to Alaska is on hold until I finish thawing out, which I expect to happen within months after I fulfill my current wish to spend an extended period in the Sahara desert. I haven't progressed very far on my book, "Walden Revisited OR 1,001 Ways to Die in the Forest." I've been too busy feeding Henrietta.

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