While driving past an outpost of Hammond Lumber, Your Scribe was apprised of the fact that a "cabin package" is on sale there for $31,000.

That is the least expensive of about a score of models they offer.

The advertised model looks like the cabin that I had built, save for the fact that the Hammond unit appears to come with a stone fireplace.

I didn't include a fireplace, but later put in a Jotul stove.

Sometimes I wonder what I would have done differently in planning my cabin, which is 24 X 20 with a six-foot deep farmer's porch.

One thing I might have done differently was to drop the ceiling.

The cabin has a high cathedral ceiling, which is lovely to behold but famously inffective at holding in heat.

Thus when we get the stove going in the spring and fall, much of the heat is soon lost.

Perhaps I should have added more skylights.

I ordered one in the center of the roof, and am amazed at how much light it lets in. Had I known, I would have put in at least two.

And I would have handled the electricity differently.

The cabin is wired for basic electric - but it has no power source.

Right now I am trying to decide whether to put in a generator to supply light for several hours per day, or call up Central Maine Power and have them bring in lines from the road.

CMP would have to bring poles down about 100 yards, then I would have to get a team to string them another 50 yards to the cabin.

It sounds like the generator might be cheaper, especially since the power would only be used for several hours a day.

Though I sometimes think of what might have been, I am generally very happy with the way the project turned out.

It's miraculous, really.

All I did was cut out a photo of a cabin I liked from a magazine, and faxed it to my builder.

Burt followed the "plan," and the result is a fine three-season cabin.

It doesn't have electricity, but perhaps it soon will.

Here is an example of why having a place is Cabin Country is so great:

Last weekend, a solitary fisherman was casting into the Sandy River.

Your Scribe was on the other side of the river, inert.

I was studying my river bank, trying to figure out how to fashion a more effective entry point for the canoe.

Our former launching point had been wiped away by erosion.

The Sandy, though not a mighty body of water, does have an awesome propensity for eroding the (sandy) river banks.

But back to the story.

This lone, middle-aged man is casting.

A woman, with large dark dog, is walking through the fields. She heads toward the river with her pooch.

She does not see the fisherman.

The woman sits contentedly, then begins to throw dog treats into the river.

The animal, not small, crashes into the water with much noise and clamor.

One doesn't have to be a Harry VanderWeide to know that dogs cavorting 50 yards from a fisherman means no fish on the hook.

The angler looked over, but said nothing.

The woman, after some minutes, noticed him downstream.

She said, quite softly, "I didn't see you. I hope I am not disturbing your fishing."

He smiled, and said, "Not really. They're just little ones I see, and they don't seem interested."

I thought he was rather kind.

The woman with disruptive dog said, in somewhat of a stage whisper, "I'm glad I didn't ruin your fishing. This is so nice here. It is a little slice of heaven."

Yes, it was a still, warm, sunny day on the river.

It was a little slice of heaven.

It's time to buy a chainsaw.

The idea of such a purchase in our family has always been akin to the thought of picking up a rocket launcher: you know that someone, somewhere, has to do it, but it won't happen in this unit.

But the land (20 acres) the cabin sits on has so much wood (both standing and already down) that the temptation to go into action is hard to ignore.

Plus the value of wood is rising each year.

Lumber mills want product; homeowners with stoves and fireplaces are paying more each year because the price of oil is on a bender.

So this weekend I went shopping.

Full disclosure: the venue was Wal-Mart.

And it wasn't a fruitful visit.

I saw one line of saws from a Japanese manufacturer that seemed to name its models after cartoon figures: they were selling "the Wood Shark" and "the Wild One."

No way.

I checked out the Remington line. This company offers electric saws, but the limitations of being connected to a power source when you are walking deep into the forest are obvious.

(But then, the 12-inch model only costs $37).

Your Scribe is also considering a Stihl, one of the top brands.

It is sold by the small-machine company that tunes up my snowblower.

But first I must overcome a funk I have been in since Noveber.

The proprietor charged $183 to tune up my very-small blower - after three straight years of billing me $60.

And they forgot to reinstall a belt, so that the blower didn't displace as much as a flake during the first storm.

So I am still a little cranky.

If I do purchase a chainsaw, the supposition by family members is that I will slice off a digit, or even an appendage.

At this rate, that concern is moot.

There is no chainsaw to do me harm.

But I plan to continue looking, because I am frustrated at seeing all that downed wood cluttering the land that slopes toward the river.

One of my favorite birds is the cormorant.

This is largely because I can recognize it, and there are many on the river near the cabin.

So imagine my annoyance when realizing that there is a campaign under way to undermine this graceful bird.

State officials, including senators Olympia Snowe and Susan Collins, have expressed concern.

In another part of the country, wildlife officials in Michigan have granted certain outdoorsman the right to shoot them, or destroy their nests.

Are they really that bad?

Cormorants, large and dark, are accused of eating a lot of fish that fishermen want to catch.

Especially salmon.

I am not diminishing this concern.

Fishing, along with tourism, are mainstays of the state's economy - and a recreational activity that almost everyone appreciates.

But cormorants seem majestic to me.

State officials say they were once depleted by coastal habitat destruction and pollution, but are now protected under the federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act.

Close observers say that now they are "ubiquitous" along the Maine coast.

On the river near my cabin, I see cormorants flapping low from one end of the (visible) river to the other.

My other thrills are seeing an osprey each summer, the large gliding bird that could be mistaken for an eagle if you are from Brooklyn on a one week hiatus.

And my part of the river hosts a very large heron.

I haven't seen offspring of these mature birds.

But I have seen the osprey and the heron every year now for about three.

It must be clear by now that Your Scribe is not a denizen of the backwoods.

Maybe that's why I feel a little miffed that the cormorant is being blamed for the minimal salmon population in Maine rivers.

Or otherwise "fishing out" its waters.

If you want to blame someone for the disappearance of the salmon, blame the captains of industry who built dams to generate the hydropower for the mills in central Maine.

I find cormorants to be without guilt.

So there it is, a cabin on a lake for $124,900.

Could it be for real?

Your Scribe has taken it as his duty to find cabins for sale that are "reasonably" priced.

I am not saying what reasonable is, but you can be sure it is on this side of the lowest-priced caretaker's shack in Camden.

Here is a listing that makes one think: Attean Township (near Jackman) - Quaint 2BR camp on Big Wood Lake. Incredible views on this 2000+ acre lake & conservation land across the way. New metal roof & comes furnished!
$124,900.

That does sound reasonable.

However, we must consider one variable of buying in this spacious state: distance from priority attractions.

For instance, there are many attractive properties in Aroostook but you've got to have a lot of time on your hands to make it worthwhile.

Or if you live in southern Maine, the thought to trekking to Jackman might be unappealing.

Assuming that distance is not a problem, it would be delightful to think you could be in a two-bedroom camp for less than $125,000.

But it is on .13 acres, which is exceedingly small.

It was built in 1935. It's doubtful if it has been often upgraded.

These concerns remind me of my ride out to Tom Joad country in Parsonsfield last fall, when I checked out a riverside cabin priced at $79,900.

Tom Joad was the penniless protagonist of "Grapes of Wrath," and I don't know that even Mr. Joad would have sought shelter at that rundown property.

But back to the central premise here: There's a lakeside cabin for sale for one of the lowest numbers you are going to behold this buying season!

More information can be found at www.longpondrealty.com.

Next week my boutique business begins at the cabin site: felling trees and selling wood.

Yes, Your Scribe has determined it's time to take down some timber and market the lumber.

I will be meeting with a woodsman, er, wood-products professional, and we will choose which trees to bring down.

He will take them down, of course.

My goal is to split the bounty to pay for improvements around the cabin.

The prospect of selling lumber from the land is probably a rationalization for all the money that has done into the place in the past few years.

Actually, the dream of making money from the wild reminds me of an earlier day, when I was determined to scuba-dive for scallops.

This was before Maine waters were overfished of the tasty, if vulnerable, sea creature.

So I took a scuba course at the Portland YMCA, and was ready for the ocean by spring.

(An aside: Maine water is almost opaque. For weeks I'd heard of all the sealife to be seen, but once under the waves, it is difficult to see more than 10 feet in front of you).

I never did bring up anything from the bottom.

But I nearly drowned off Cape Elizabeth.

Looking back, my goal to gather scallops to pay for my scuba course and gear wasn't very realistic.

It was more of an excuse to plunge into an activity that sounded like fun.

I hope that my hiring a woodsman isn't another exercise in self-delusion.

I'd really like to think that he will judiciously take down oak, ash and maple, and we will share the profits while fostering a healthier forest.

Even if I only realize a small sum, I will be happy. (And surprised).

Until next Saturday!

If it's your dream to have a retreat on water, a cabin on an inland lake or river is the way to go.

I know this because I have just received the "summer guide" of Down East magazine.

The properties this "consumer" magazine advertises are so expensive that no one except the seven-figure crowd can afford to buy on the ocean or its adjacent inlets.

Land near the ocean has always been expensive.

But prices are so elevated now that it's almost funny.

From the April issue:

A "Southern colonial" at Owls Head for $1.3 million.

A six-room "beautifully maintained" house in Southport for $1.4 million.

A 1,400 square foot cottage on Kennebunk Beach for $1.9 million.

There are less expensive properties than these, of course, but there are many that are more costly.

Your Scribe finds the most curious statistic about the real-estate market is that the median Maine houseland income, according to Down East, is $39,000.

So few properties will be falling into the hands of those who live here.

Of course, the best properties have always been purchased by the rich.

From the Rockefellers to Martha Stewart, the monied home buyers have always secured the most glorious properties.

It just seems like now every property is getting too expensive for mere mortals.

Even waterfront property in communities that didn't use to be on the A List, such as Biddeford, Rockland and Belfast, is suddenly very expensive.

Which gets Your Scribe back to square one: If you want affordable vacation property, consider the lakes and rivers of inland Maine.

In coming weeks I will attempt to identify properties that might be attainable - and I will publish my findings on this blog.

If you are trying to sell a property, send me a note through the "comment" function at the bottom of this page.

It must be great to put together your own cabin.

There are at least a score of companies in Maine that provide "kits" or "packages" that can be delivered to the property owner and his waiting crew.

I consider the ability to build your own cabin to be a noble and great skill.

But I wouldn't even want to try.

A recent ad in an outdoors magazine, to this point, suggested "Build it yourself. Follow our detailed, fully-illustrated construction manual and construction drawings... FREE training and guidance as you go!"

I would rather attempt to swim across the Bay of Fundy than try to construct my own cabin with the logs, roofing, flooring and "exposed beam ceiling" that the log-home company drops on your land.

Your Scribe mentions this because he looked into it three years ago.

The price sounded good (perhaps $15,000) for 600-square foot cabin (not counting the farmer's porch).

But when it finally hit me that the price was for materials only, I laughed so hard I thought the sales manager was going to hit me with a step ladder.

Certainly he couldn't expect me to build it!

I was so inept as a kid that I had to take remedial blocks.

And it didn't get better as I aged. My last home project was trying to remove a rusted toilet seat from the bowl.

The bad (but predictable) news was that I broke the bowl with my injudicious hammering; the good news was that the break was above the water line.

My shortcomings aside, I still wanted a cabin.

So I did what any local would do: I went to the farm store, and looked at business cards tacked on the outdoor bulletin board.

I saw a message I liked, and ended up calling the number printed on the weathered scrap.

The builder's name was Burt. At our first meeting, he showed photos of other projects he had done, and gave me phone numbers of people for whom he had worked.

With this modest excursion into due dilgence behind me, I contracted with him to build the cabin.

Except for the fact he forgot to put on the back porch - which was in the plans - the cabin has worked out well.

He cleared the land, built the structure and even put in a skylight in the middle of the roof. It is a fine cabin.

I admire those who do order a "package," and build it with their friends or perhaps a contractor.

There are many success stories with this mode of construction.

But I doubt if I could even assemble the steps correctly - and surely they would not lead anywhere.

For me, developing the cabin was a case of knowing your limits.

And having the wisdom to say, "Let Burt do it!"

'Tis another season for planting perennials.

Your Scribe has been forced to be a planting fool in the spring.

When Burt, my builder, constructed the cabin, he put it on stanchions that put the structure about three feet off the ground.

I don't know why he did this, because the parcel is not on a flood plain.

But there it is.

Visually, this does not look right because there is so much open space under the building.

So I am putting in plants and bushes so the setting looks more natural and filled in.

My guide for which plants to choose is "Tough Plants for Northern Gardens" by a chap named Felder Rushing.

Reasoning: Most books get you excited about a plant or shrub, and mention toward the end of the description that "this hardy specimen grows well in Texas and Louisiana."

This 2003 paperback only focuses on greenery that will do will in our chilly climate.

My credo for the moment is "plant anything that will grow quickly."

Thus one of the vines I have actually planted is bittersweet.

This "weed" drives real gardeners crazy.

But I am not proud.

I want vegetation now.

A principal challenge to my aspirations is shade.

The cabin is in the woods, which means that sunshine is limited to two to three hours per day.

So this spring I will be planting azalea, forsythia, hydrangea, lilacs and roses of sharon (since the cabin is in New Sharon).

Also, I will be putting in privat in part because the book had the following inspiring comment: "the only thing that can stop a snowplow is a privat hedge . . . plant them, and then run for your clippers."

I also want to plant potatoes, but don't know if they will grow because there is so much shade.

On the subject of phraseology, here is gardener's adage that I detest; "First year we sleep, second year we creep and third year we leap."

I am in the second year of serious planting - but I hope that by mid-summer there is some leaping going on!

If you like cabins, this option should be appealing.

It is a "community of cabins."

You can buy a cabin in Big Woods, in Harrison, a small village in the Bridgton area.

Big Woods is a 17-acre parcel.

It is on the Crooked River, which in the developer's eyes, "runs from Songo Pond in Bethel to the Songo River in Naples and into Sebago Lake and is well known to canoeists and fishermen. The beautiful 17 acre Big Woods common area borders 1700 feet of the river, which includes a small beach."

Well, there is a little hype there.

But the cabins are attractive.

Several, in fact, look like the one built by Your Scribe . . . which is probably why I noticed the website.

Çould multiple cabins co-exist (happily) on 17 acres, with a common access to water?

I don't know.

But it's cabins only, and they look darn good.

It is early in my blogging career, and I don't know what is a "good price" for a cabin within reach of civilization.

But those interested can call Big Woods Cabins, at 207-693-3831.

Last Saturday marked the opening of fishing season in cabin country, and what a treat: It was warm and without bugs! Your Scribe caught nothing, fishing from the river bank.

Events of spring remind me of a book I recently read, "A Year in the Maine Woods." It was by a college professor (in 1994) who had the time to live a full year in a cabin near Wilton (he didn't say exactly where.) He spent a lot of time writing about the insects that appear with the thaw, and as a result I have new respect for lightning bugs.

Full disclosure: My favorite book with a Maine focus is "Arundel," by Kenneth Roberts. In it, a band of Mainers in the pre-Revolution era travel from Brunswick to Quebec to attempt to take a French fort there.

There are tough outdoorsmen in New England today but I wonder how many could paddle and portage from across much of Maine and eastern Canada - finishing in December!

Recently I saw two deer on the turnpike in Kennebunk and no deer in Franklin County. I feel shortchanged. But then again, hunters are plentiful in the western mountains and few guns are discharged in the suburbs of York County.

Despite talk of a growing number of turkeys throughout the state, I have yet to run across a dead bird as road kill. There are plenty along roadways, of course.

I've lived in Maine for close to 20 years and have only seen a moose on one occasion. There were two, actually, walking together down Route 27 in Belgrade at about 10 p.m.

I am glad I piled firewood under the cabin. Though the ground is wet, I still have plenty of dry wood for the stove.

Happy note: Cabin Country recently received a great reaction from a reader. The "message" was in response to a column about buying a cabin. The owner said he is selling a cabin on a small river. He wants $21,900, which is a great price for a waterfront reteat. I hope more readers send emails about cabins for sale.

Full disclosure, Part 2: It is in Aroostook . . .

Having a cabin is a great thing but first you’ve got to acquire one.

Cost for Maine property is soaring, of course.

Still, Your Scribe vows to look around from time to time to mention properties that might be doable.

I won’t put a price on “doable,” but you’ll get the idea.

My first foray into identifying “finds” took place late last autumn.

The mission of Your Scribe as he motored northwest on Route 35 was to check out a 'camp on a river for $79,900.'

I had seen this posting in a free real-estate guide, and thought I'd see what you get for that sum.

The river was the Ossippee, and the town in which the cabin was located was Parsonsfield.

Parsonsfield is a very appealing town. And watching the snow-capped mountains of western Maine come into view made the heart soar.

But when Your Scribe reached the camp itself, he was crestfallen

The cabin was shabby, and all properties in the “compound” were rundown.

I half expected Tom Joad (impecunious protagonist of 'The Grapes of Wrath') to come out from behind one of the ramshackle cabins and declare, 'No summer people should have to live like this.'

Well, it wasn't that bad.

But to get to the 15 cabins that lined the bank of dark, fast-moving river, you had to drive through a onetime refuse dump.

And there were several abandoned mills on the rutty dirt road, which would be frightening for families with small children.

Rhonda, the real-estate lady who gave me directions, had said that the road was bad and several buildings were in disrepair.

But I had dreamed of finding a gem.

No way. After I had passed the discarded tires and broken furniture that lined the access road, I knew the camp would be modest.

It was. A 100 by 100 parcel. Chipping paint on the house, and windows barely staying in place. Rickety steps to get from river bank to the fast flowing water.

Maybe $79,000 really doesn't get you much.

That being said . . .

You might try the classifieds of the Maine Sportsman, the monthly newspaper for the hunting and fishing crowd.

In the April issue, an ad featured a cabin in New Vineyard that sleeps six for $37.500. (It doesn’t appear to be on water).

The edition also featured a camp in Eustis that is 20 minutes to Sugarloaf for $65,000.

Sometimes properties advertised in local newspapers appear more reasonable.

A small hunting shack on the Sandy River in New Sharon with one acre of land listed for $49,000.

A photo suggested it wasn’t grandiose but you’ve got to start somewhere.