Basix by Staub Enameled Cast Iron Cookware

So I had a dream this morning.

I was driving back to work from somewhere, and suddenly, I noticed a grassed-over gravel road leading into the forest. There was a street sign--Old 776--but it was beaten and worn and the road itself looked as if no one had used it for years and years (although the grass was cut if that makes sense.) There was also an Ohio Parks sign right at the end of the road that proclaimed "Abraham Lincoln stood here in the year 18--" and I remember wondering how theyknew the exact spot where he stood.

So of course I turned from the main road and drove down the slightly bumpy and a bit muddy gravel road; there was a street sign, I figured, and no "Keep Out" signs or anything, so I figured it was a public road. Up ahead, I saw a hill carpeted in yellow--leafed trees; autumn was in full bloom in this place, and you just don't see that vibrant color of yellow anywhere else. At the foot of the hill was a wide creek--an Ohio creek; full of rocks and pools of water. I wished for my camera, but it didn't appear.

The road itself led into the water, and there was a worn and disheveled "Road Closed" sign, and also a road sign--which had 776, 125, and maybe a "slippery when wet" sign on the pole--lying in the creek, almost covered by yellow leaves. But the real prize at the end of this road were the cabins--small, abandoned stone cabins. Five of them. Three on one side, two on the other. They sat on a flat spot, right before the curve going down to the creek, picturesque even though they were abandoned.

Obviously, I'd found an old abandoned village.

Again, there were no keep out signs or signs declaring what this place was; I assumed it was a park, but save for the Park sign about Abraham Lincoln, there was no other indications that this was park land.

Faintly, from somewhere, I heard two voices; a man's and a woman's. But otherwise, both the woods and the little cabins were silent and still, as if frozen in time.

I was driving down the road, and going a little too fast, so I had to slow down a lot to turn around. I did not get out of my car to investigate the cabins, but I swore to myself that I would come back for lunch or on my breaks or even on the weekends. This made me sad, because what I really wanted to do was explore, not go back to work.

And then, as I drove past the first cabin in the set of three, a pregnant Siamese cat appeared in the windowsill, and I realized there were feral cats here, too. I promised myself I'd bring my camera the next time, and take pictures of the cabins, but a part of me wondered if I'd ever be able to find this place again; that if I left, would it vanish back to wherever it came from?

And yet, I drove away.

I wonder what would have happened if I'd stayed.