Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

One of the great joys of rereading Charles Dickens is to rediscover all the words and phrases he coined. It’s quite amazing to me that what he pulled out of thin air and put down on paper found its way to remain in our present-day conversations. Flummoxed? You can thank Dickens for that one. As can you for ‘abuzz,’ ‘rampage,’ even the word ‘boredom!’ Who knew?

My fav, however, can be found in Bleak House. While most of us will understand (OK, maybe just your Aunty Pam) that a ‘growler’ is an airtight vessel in which you can refill with your bestie draft beer, many of us don’t know that if one is in dire need of their filled growler, this might mean they are about to retire for an extended stay in their growlery.

Growlery: a place to retreat to, alone, when in an ill humor.

I LOVE THAT. So did Frederick Douglass, who, after reading Dickens, promptly built one for himself—a one-roomed stone cottage with a fireplace, desk, and chair where he would spend hours in thought, reading, and writing.

Move over, man caves. See ya, she-sheds (try saying that five times, fast). 

I am going to erect myself a growlery somewhere back in the woods that will make a tiny house appear ostentatious. I’m talking a bare, rough-sawn floor, a camp chair and probably a growler. No ‘Wayfair’ trendy cuteness. A place to retreat from the political mire and intolerance upon us, a place to crumble when disappointed, a place to stew in blissful privacy. A place to cuss. A place to—

“But you already have that,” replied Paul, pouring water over my excitedly declared plans. “The barn. That’s where you spend most of your day, anyway.”

He’s right, of course, but that isn’t going to stop me from proving him wrong.

Growl…