The Christmas Log Cabin: Sleepy Journey

Deep within a snow-covered forest, a glowing oasis with maximalist decor offers your sanctuary for the night. Relax and unwind by the fire with your beloved dog as a nostalgic Christmas tale conjures heartwarming moments. Cherish this time of solitude and quiet reflection as you snuggle up and recognize the silent protest of holiday lights, daring to shine on in the darkest of nights.

It's time to dream away.

Transcript

Experience the ultimate holiday retreat in this cozy sleep story where a vibrant log cabin becomes a glowing oasis in the heart of a snowy wilderness.

Let the festive lights and the warmth of a crackling fire guide you into a night of deep restorative rest.

It's time to dream away.

Welcome to Michelle's Sanctuary.

I'm Michelle,

Your sleepy guide for tonight's Christmas adventure.

I hope my voice greets you like that of a dear longtime friend.

One who reminds you of the holiday spirit and the beautiful power of your imagination as you celebrate making it through yet another day.

In this delicate,

Playful space between wakefulness and sleep,

We will set the perfect tone for dreaming.

Tonight's mental holiday is yours to craft.

Feel free to change any detail you desire and drift to sleep whenever rest becomes irresistible.

You are listening to The Christmas Log Cabin,

A story inspired by my childhood friend's log cabin,

Tucked just beyond the rugged edges of a stone quarry deep in the woods.

I always felt like I was entering a fairy tale when I visited,

And during the holidays,

The colorful Christmas lights would reflect against the rich coppery log walls and I'd lie on the floor watching them twinkle.

I remember the pure unfiltered magic of leaping off their deck and through the wide snowy fields outside with their dog,

The cold air biting our cheeks while we laughed until we were breathless.

Their home was a sanctuary for many animals,

Bunnies,

Barn cats,

And rescued horses whose breath turned to steam in the winter air.

As the story unfolds,

You may discover that feeling of wonder and make it entirely yours.

Because we're going to a cabin that is even more vibrant,

Even more secluded,

And perfectly tailored to your design.

Let's enjoy a few brief easy minutes to check in with you and slow down so you may journey inward and settle into the sanctuary of your mind.

Invite in a long,

Overdue ease,

Allowing your breath to become the magic that carries you toward a vibrant winter wonderland.

Tucked in safe,

Feeling warm and supported,

You can sense the air around you changing,

Taking on the crisp,

Sharp frostiness of a deep winter night in the forest.

As you let out a sigh,

Cast away any remnants of today and concerns for tomorrow.

Draw in the pure,

Chilled air with an intention to be fully aware of all the sensations that come to life within your creative mind.

Yawn,

If you like,

Before you let out another easy,

Audible sigh,

Finding more release than you may have considered possible.

As you inhale,

The aromatic notes of the holiday season arrive.

The scent of cinnamon tea and the resinous sweet perfume of freshly cut,

Splintering logs.

You can yawn at the top of your breath if that feels nice,

Then let out another easy,

Audible sigh,

Feeling yourself become lighter.

Continue this pattern of breathing if you wish,

As I count us down.

Five.

Tune into the silence of the remote forest,

Broken only by the soft,

Rhythmic crunch of snow underfoot.

The stillness of the woods inspires a sense of profound fluidity and ease.

Four.

Imagine your spine is a long,

Delicate string of vintage Christmas lights,

Draped with care,

Starting from the base of your skull and traveling down to your tailbone.

Five.

Imagine every vertebra is its own brilliant,

Healing bulb.

As you breathe,

Each light glows in its own unique color.

Emerald green,

Ruby red,

Sapphire blue,

And warm amber gold.

Sending a wave of restorative heat through your back,

Soothing every nerve with a festive,

Colorful radiance.

Three.

Cascading streams of tender care flow through you,

Letting every cell in your body know that it's okay to stand down.

Two.

Stillness settles in every part of you,

Tracing down your glowing spine,

Across the front of your body,

And down your arms and legs.

You feel a blissful warmth in your hands and feet,

As if you are standing before a hearth that never goes out.

One.

Feel the joy of reaching your chosen haven,

The most resplendent log cabin in the wilderness.

The world exists only to support your night of wonder and peace.

Three.

Your breathing returns to the most effortless,

Natural tempo,

As our journey to the Christmas log cabin begins.

There are years when Christmas lights can be the antidote to the darkness of reality,

The unexpected turns and twists of a year,

And the cynical noise that the modern world loves to broadcast.

Four.

The only solution is to shine on brighter,

Filling the darkness with shimmering magic,

And becoming a maximalistic decorator to create the most festive ambiance imaginable.

Five.

Every twinkling light and strand of tinsel becomes a silent protest,

Saying to all who dare disagree,

That you are going to find joy and bathe in its light.

Well,

That's certainly the energy behind the Christmas Log Cabin.

Built in the last century,

It's been restored and well-maintained.

Rustic,

Yet modern.

And the perfect canvas for holiday decor as the first of December arrives each year.

This is your special haven.

A glowing refuge in the deep woods that cannot help but bring a smile to even the scroogiest countenance.

It's nearing the end of December.

You design a perfect night for self-care and fun,

Indulging in a long winter's walk with your pup in tow.

The sun has slipped far beyond the horizon,

Surrendering the sky to one of the longest nights of the year.

The winter solstice brings a delightful invitation to hunker down in your forest home,

Heightening the coziness of every twinkling bulb and every fire spark that dances up the flue into the night.

In this remote forest,

The darkness is absolute and velvet-thick,

The silence profound,

Feeling as weighty as the bending branches of ancient snow-laden pines.

But the pristine white snow is reflective and guides you.

You find yourself deep in the woods,

Far from the reach of modern noises and the blue glow of screens.

You observe time through the natural rhythms of the day and night,

Rather than by clocks and calendars,

Following the light of the moon on this enchanting walk.

The forest feels like home,

A bone-deep,

Welcome sense of peace on a path you know well.

Your dog trots alongside you with an unusual gate that brings you an endless source of quiet amusement.

Bundled in a puffy,

Yet stylish plaid parka,

The fabric swishes softly against the snow with every offbeat step.

Your pup is currently adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation of four rubber snow boots with a hint of dramatic canine annoyance.

Every few steps,

They lift a paw high,

A slow,

Deliberate march,

Trying to shake the boot off as if it were a pest.

Their sweet,

Trusting eyes look up at you with a pleading expression.

But then,

As you round a bend,

The untouched,

Fresh snow of a pristine clearing catches their eye.

The annoyance vanishes instantly with the easy distraction.

The thrill of the winter wonderland takes over,

And they leap into a drift,

Momentarily forgetting the strange contraptions on their paws.

As they frolic in the snow,

Their tag wagging and raising like a flag of joy above the white powder.

You can't help but laugh,

Savoring this shared moment with your dearest sidekick and companion.

They return to your side.

Together,

You gaze up through a cathedral of cedar and blue spruce branches to witness the rising three-quarter moon that reflects on the snow with an ethereal,

Opal light.

You follow the path,

Arriving at your property where the Christmas log cabin glows in all its festive glory.

It is a maximalist masterpiece,

Just as if Santa Claus or the art designers of a hallmark movie have been given full reign.

Yet at the same time,

Every detail has been curated exclusively for you to feel special.

This is your sanctuary of solitude,

A place to celebrate the season,

Entirely on your own terms.

Away from the hustle and bustle for one special night of absolute peace.

The cabin is draped in thousands of vintage large ceramic bulbs.

They offer a warm glow not found in the tiny LED lights of the modern world.

Appearing like bold,

Saturated jewels the size of chestnuts.

They glow in shades of ruby red,

Emerald green,

Gold,

And sapphire.

The light emits with an intensity that reflects on the snow with welcome vibrance.

The colors ripple down the snowy knolls in long neon ribbons of festive light,

Turning the forest floor into a shimmering frozen rainbow.

A thick,

Lazy ribbon of silvery black wood smoke corkscrews from the chimney rising straight into the crystal clear starry sky,

Where the constellations burn brighter in this expanse of snow-kissed wilderness.

The faint sound of your favorite holiday tunes reverberates from outdoor speakers and from within the cabin,

Elevating your mood as you approach.

Your boot treads create fresh prints in the snow,

Your dog's boots leaving their marks beside you as you walk toward the wraparound porch.

As you ascend,

Snow crunches in the wooden planks grown softly under your weight with a welcoming familiar sound.

The hand-carved oak door has been painted in a happy shade of glossy,

Deep holly berry red,

A color as rich as a candy coating.

Thick,

Heavy boughs of balsam fir are woven into a massive archway,

Framing the entry and releasing a sharp,

Invigorating perfume as you brush past.

A lash-matching wreath hangs on the door,

Its velvet bow perky in the frosty air.

As you push open the door,

A wave of decadent dry warmth greets you.

You step inside and immediately attend to your companion,

Who is once more perturbed by the winter boots.

You kneel on the soft,

Thick rug of the entryway,

Unzipping the little dog parka and feeling the residual cold of the fabric under your fingers.

You peel off the four rubber boots,

One by one,

Your pup eager to help remove the last two.

You dowel them off and set them free into the cabin,

And your pup becomes a streak of pure,

Unadulterated joy.

Now a blur of fur reflecting the holiday lights,

Your dog races through the wide,

Open concept space and makes three triumphant high-speed laps around the 12-foot-tall Christmas tree that stands as the heart of your home.

You kick off your own heavy boots and slide your feet into plush,

Faux-fur lined slippers as downy as marshmallows.

You walk to the massive stone hearth where the fire has settled into a glowing bed of orange embers.

Picking up a heavy log of seasoned oak,

You gently place it down.

The sparks dance upward like fireflies,

And you stoke the flames with an antique blackened iron poker until they roar once more.

The honeyed light dances on the log walls as the flames lick at the stone walls of the fireplace.

Your dog,

Now tuckered out from the zoomies,

Flops down onto a thick Christmas tree rug,

Directly in front of the heat,

Their chin cutely resting on their paws.

Looking up,

The cabin is breathtakingly charming and dreamily cast in the colorful glow of varying holiday lights.

The soaring,

Exposed wooden beams of the ceiling are draped in thick balsam boughs intertwined with wide scarlet ribbons and hundreds of tiny,

Dreamy,

Golden fairy lights.

Long,

Dangling,

Glittering red,

Green,

And gold threads are strung between the rafters,

And miniature gold clothespins hold a gallery of Christmas cards.

Some from this year,

And some faded,

Precious relics of decades past.

Their handwritten messages bring a lifetime of kind words sent your way.

The majestic tree is heavy with antique ornaments,

And the branches bow slightly under the weight.

There are hand-blown glass bells that chime when the heat from the fire moves the air,

Wooden nutcrackers with painted eyes,

And shimmering tinsel that catches the firelight in a constant,

Flickering ballet.

The largest orbs in hues of silver and metallic red reflect the beauty of the room,

Distorting its grandeur in a dreamy haze.

You take a deep breath to close your eyes,

Feeling the warmth of the fire and Christmas lights on your skin.

You smell the intoxicating,

Rich scents of simmering cinnamon sticks.

The sweet,

Aged cedar.

The charred logs in the fire.

And the sharp,

Lingering ozone hint of the outside cold that still clings to your cable-knit sweater.

You follow the trail of holiday runners with glittery fringe.

The rugs are like soft,

Vibrant clouds that rest on the polished wood floors that lead you to the kitchen.

Wide bow windows frame the night sky and snow-covered forest.

Copper pots hang from the racks,

Reflecting the holiday lights.

You prepare a hot drink of your own design.

Perhaps a thick,

Spiced chocolate topped with hand-whipped cream,

Or a steaming cider with a cinnamon stick.

You pour it into a heavy,

Oversized holiday mug that depicts a perfect,

Hand-painted replica of this very Christmas log cabin with your pup depicted in the snow.

While the drink is still steaming,

You grab a small gift from under the tree.

Your dog watches with perked ears and a tilting head as you present it.

With a wag of the tail,

They begin to shred the festive paper.

The sound of the crinkling wrap filling the quiet room.

Eventually,

They reveal a new chew toy that brings them instant delight.

And they revert back to a playful mode.

You settle into your favorite armchair by the fire.

It is oversized and plush,

Upholstered in a lush velvet that hugs around you like a warm embrace.

A thick,

Cream-colored chenille blanket drapes over its back,

And you pull it over your lap,

Tucking the edges under your legs.

You take a slow,

Silky sip of your drink,

The heat radiating through your chest,

And place the mug on a cedar coaster on a side table.

As your dog settles their warm,

Tired body atop your slippered feet,

Contentedly chewing their new toy,

You pick up a heavy,

Bound volume of all children's Christmas tales.

The lightweight pages are etched with gold and feathery to the touch.

They turn easily with your fingers that have now regained their warmth.

You randomly land upon a tale entitled,

The Christmas Puppy.

You make note of this to your own pup,

Who gives you a loving glance before returning to their toy.

Your eyes shift to the page,

To a story that takes you back to the edge of the Black Forest in the year 1895.

In a remote and inspiring place,

Not unlike your cabin,

You begin to read.

Some children are born into a kind world,

Where all things come together with ease.

While others are born with many challenges,

And must rely on their imaginations to craft a vivid world of wonder.

Elsa belonged in the latter category.

In a small,

Timbered cottage,

Tucked beneath the shadows of the mountains,

She was an only child born to very loving souls.

Her father was a maker of cuckoo clocks,

Her mother a weaver of beloved blankets,

And a herbalist on the side.

Elsa was a bright spirit,

But she had spent the better part of three years unwell.

And three years for a child is a rather long time.

It was as if the chill of winter had found a home in her spirit,

Bringing a heavy weariness that no tonic could quite reach.

She felt a deep,

Quiet longing for a spring that felt too far away.

Her mother's potions brought her summer leave,

Yet never quite brought a cure,

As a little medicine and time had done for so many other families in the Black Forest.

Elsa spent her Christmases in a high,

Four-poster bed,

Watching the snow fall silently onto the dark,

Ancient pines through a frosty windowpane.

So much of her life was spent here,

Gazing out at the world through the seasons,

Losing hope that she would ever get better.

Both her parents were kind,

Hard-working souls with a shared intuition that sensed their young daughter's melancholy was more limiting than her lingering frailty.

They saw how her eyes lost their spark as the winter days grew shorter.

They knew she needed a reason to look forward to the spring.

An incentive to move,

To breathe,

And to hope.

On Christmas Eve,

As the girl lay propped against her lace pillows made for her by her mother the year before,

The room lit only by a single tallow candle,

Her parents entered carrying a sturdy wooden crate.

It was burrowed beneath a thick,

Hand-woven wool blanket,

But the blanket was moving.

There was a faint,

Muffled woof coming from inside.

Elsa stirred,

Confused at first.

She was most used to her parents waking her before dawn on Christmas morning to open her gifts.

Unlike the other children her age,

She was oft too tired to be the one to wake them first.

She stared at the crate and her parents,

Who shared a mischievous glance with one another.

Suddenly,

A tiny,

Golden-furred head poked out from the wool.

It was a puppy with oversized,

Floppy paws and a tail that thumped rhythmically against the wood of the crate.

The puppy wiggled out and scrambled onto Elsa's bed,

Scurrying up the heavy quilt to lick her face with frantic puppy devotion.

For the first time in a very long time,

Elsa giggled,

A clear,

Silver sound that seemed to shatter the stillness of the sick room.

It had been some time since someone or something as vibrant and youthful had been in her physical space.

Her face flushed on this Christmas Eve,

Not by a fever,

But with enthusiasm and boundless joy.

She fell asleep snuggling the warm,

Soft weight of the puppy against her chest.

The pup's heartbeat was a steady,

Soothing sound that helped the young girl sleep more soundly through the night than she had in many years.

As the snow fell outside the cottage,

Elsa had a dream much unlike the constant haunt of doctors and bitter medicines.

It was of herself,

Healthy and vibrant,

Running through a field of mountain wildflowers in the spring with her pup at her heels.

The dream would prove to be quite a prophecy,

As each winter day that followed,

Elsa was met with a desire to step outdoors and get some fresh air.

Following her pup,

Who she named Dagmar,

Or Dag for short,

The dog's name symbolized the dawning of a new day.

It would take some time,

But step by step and breath by breath,

Elsa regained her strength.

So focused on her new friend,

She was no longer lost in defeat.

The puppy gave her the spirit to heal.

Dagmar was her constant companion,

Her reason to take one more step each day.

By the time the snow melted and the first violets appeared,

She was indeed running through the black forest,

A girl transformed by the simple,

Healing power of a loyal friend.

You close the book with a soft,

Satisfied thud,

Your heart feeling as full as the little girl's.

The fire is still high,

Casting long,

Peaceful shadows across the room.

But the pull of the night air calls to you one last time.

Your eyes quietly,

Making sure not to disturb your pup's peace and change into your swimwear.

And a thick,

Velvety robe.

You step out onto the back porch,

Where the cedar hot tub is ready.

It's water,

A swirling,

Steaming invitation.

Soft holiday tunes play from hidden speakers.

The melodies drifting out into the dark,

Silent forest.

Your pup Ever,

The watchful guardian,

Settles by the glass door,

Resting their head on their paws to watch you through the pain.

You shed the robe and sink into the water.

The contrast is divine.

The biting,

Crystalline cold of the winter air against your cheeks,

While your body is enveloped in bubbling,

Jet-streamed heat.

Clouds of white steam rise and vanish into the moonlight.

As you soak,

You notice movement at the edge of the woods.

A small family of deer has emerged,

Cautiously discovering the heap of carrots and apples you left for them earlier.

You watch them in silence,

Their dark eyes reflecting the colorful lights of the cabin.

You feel so tended to,

So incredibly relaxed,

As the tension of the year melts into the hot,

Soothing water.

Eventually,

The waves of sleepiness become too strong to ignore.

You step out of the tub,

The cold air invigorating,

For only a second before you duck back inside the warmth.

You head to the bathroom,

Which is a festive sanctuary of its own,

Decked with candy-cane-scented Christmas carols and a holiday shower curtain depicting a winter scene.

Your pup follows you,

A constant,

Quiet shadow on the tile.

As they settle,

You think of Elsa and Dagmar,

So deeply grateful for the relationship between a pup and their human.

You shower off with Christmas-spiced eggnog soap,

The scent of nutmeg,

Vanilla,

And sweet cream filling the steam.

You find yourself humming a holiday tune,

Grateful for these simple,

Luxurious pleasures.

After toweling off and putting on fresh,

Warm flannel pajamas,

You make your final preparations for rest.

You begin the ascent to the loft.

With each step,

A heady feeling becomes more present.

And your limbs feel so heavy and tired in the most pleasant way.

The stairs are lined with the same colorful,

Vintage lights.

And as you climb,

You see their reflections dancing off the coppery locks of the walls,

Creating a path of jewels.

The bed is a mountain of comfort,

Draped in a crimson velvet comforter with a collection of gold,

Sateen pillows that shimmer in the low light.

You peel back the heavy covers and slide in.

The sheets crisp and cool against your skin.

A moment later,

Your pup joins you,

Circling a couple of times before nesting into the crook of your legs.

They let out a long,

Soft,

Delighted sigh in your ear.

A sound of pure,

Unconditional trust.

You are their safe place.

Their most beloved.

And in this precious moment,

You feel the immense weight of that love surrounding you.

The fire downstairs crackles one last time.

A distant pop of wood outside the winter winds begin to howl through the trees.

But they only make the loft feel more secure,

More private.

Crafted in velvet and the steady breath of your furry companion,

You surrender to the incoming waves of sleep.

Finding comfort.

Finding love.

Finding peace.

Reviews

Beautiful cozy imagery and very soothing and relaxing. Thank you and happy holidays!

This story is so special and brought back beautiful memories. It is my first Christmas without a dog & it made me smile thinking of my Standard Poodle romping through the snow in my backyard. Then last Christmas, I had my little Poodle & she couldn’t stand wearing boots, but when I took them off, she would zoom around the house. She got so excited when her stuffed toys & chews were opened. The story that was read also was wonderful. I felt so cozy & at peace in this cabin, snuggled with my dog & the crackling fire. Thank you, Michelle, & Merry Christmas.

Michelle, love this Christmas cosy log cabin story! Feeling in awe of this secluded cabin, a sanctuary for all animals. So cute visual of the pup trying to shake off the dog booties! The pure joy of playing in the snow in this remote forest. Wish I could remember more, but fell fast asleep! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🤗🤗🤗🤗🤗