Poor Banjo Man. He hates to say goodbye. We spent five hours up here on Monday.
We had one last fire in the stove.
We cleaned. We ate apple pie. We rested a bit.
We put up the sign.
We have a caretaker, someone who will check on things often. The cabin won’t be abandoned for the winter.
And we’ll be back in the Spring.
is there any more pie? 
Closing down the cabin, one last fling with the band, it must be the end of the season. Sad,
It’s time to get ready for a New England winter.