Envision a trek past a fenced-in pasture where the shimmering agates along the dirt road beckon for your attention. As you saunter through the arched trees, you detect a spotted fawn peeking through the brush. You reach your hand out to pluck some wild raspberries, so bold and bountiful with morning dew. Your heart skips a beat because you have arrived after a three-hour drive, past Norm’s Market and Sue’s Drive-In to fill your fridge for the weekend. You know these landmarks by heart, and they give cabin trips value.

This is the journey to our cabin, which sits on 75 feet of lakeshore in Merrifield, Minn., a town that boasts local bands at the dive bar, car shows, and firework displays. The significance of those trips along Dorothy Avenue resides inside the walls of the cabin, Springer’s Sunrise Shores. The s’mores skewers that hang in the cupboard wait to be used by my three nieces. The guitar is tucked in its case until the sun wanes and I cajole my brother into strumming some classics around the bonfire. The bunk beds are assembled in every room for all generations to fill for reunions. The stack of flags are stored in 5-gallon pails after another annual boat parade around the bay on July 4th. The closet holds waders that stay hidden until the inevitable fall weekend when it’s time remove the dock sections in anticipation of winter’s arrival.

Our quaint cabin is settled on a remote peninsula. Neighboring boaters have become lifelong friends, whether it’s in the summer sunshine or during the magical snowflakes of winter. Do we consider the resale value? No. The value of this cabin is incalculable.

Rose Dalske, Forest Lake