Vacationing in PA
The last two days in Pennysylvania have given me much more than I asked for. Coming from Brooklyn, New York, back home to my tiny wooded town in PA, I want nothing more than to be consumed by nature and simple pleasures. Without much planned except for writing and being with my father, I began a week off in the confines of the natural world.
I can't believe I ever left this place. It's such a pity that in order to enjoy a world which I lived in for 18 years I need to pull all sorts of scheduling and financial magic tricks to make a 4.5 day visit possible. Whenever I come here I feel as though time slows down.
The silence of the nights is enough to want to move back home. I go to sleep in silence, without the pitter patter of feet above or below me, vacumms, running, people yelling, horns blowing on the street, or children screaming in a yard next door. The nights are passed completely restless, in the deepest, most rejuvinating sleep imaginable. The sounds of crickets and the gentle rush of wind tossling leaves in the trees lull you into a dream-riddled slumber. Upon waking there is no desire to remain at rest, no resistance to waking, because your night was slept through so throughly that you feel entirely recharged.
Every minute feels like an hour; there is no race through crowds and buildings, obstacles causing anxiety and frustration. Here, there is no such thing as time.
Yesterday was my first full day home in the valley. I woke up after a restful night, did my hair, and got ready for the day. My father took me for lunch at this adorable restaurant off the side of a winding road in Tunkhannock. The entire structure was constructed of wood, the interior a sort of cabin with pictures of wildlife and country-like paintings covering the walls. The menu was endless and we enjoyed a great conversation in the booth next to a window which overlooked a very small creek.
Afterward, we went to a Monarch butterfly sanctuary. The main bulding was full of nature and wildlife tokens and decorations; a table which sprouted branches that held strings of butterflies and flowers, garden ceramics of frogs and turtles, dishware with floral designs. I wish I could decorate my entire imagined home with pieces from that store. The Monarch butterfly sanctuary was beautiful - there was butterflies wandering everywhere, and we learned a lot.
Then my dad and I went to one of the only wineries around and I found two great red wines which I loved, and my father was kind enough to get me both of them.
After a nap, my dad and his fiance, Marie, took two bottles of wine into the backyard and drank around a small fire. The embers glowing and popped as my dad pushed them around in the pit, the fire growing vibrant then fading in steady intervals, burning my feet, then causing me to lean closer to avoid a chill. It was gorgeous, and the conversation most intellectual and pleasing.
Today my dad and I hung out by the pool: I layed and got a tan, and dunked myself in a bit. Then we went for my favorite chicken wings, which I haven't had in 2 years because I've been eating only organic meat. It was delicious; everything I always remembered and loved. Then we went to Francis Slocum state park and rented a row boat to take out on the lake. We both did pretty well rowing and we saw a bald eagle. It was so relaxing floating on the lake, talking about life and enjoying the scenery. After, we went to Hillside Farms and had ice cream, checked out some ducks, sunflowers, chickens, goats, roosters, and sheep. I heard cows at the top of the hill and rushed across a stream, climbed up a delapidated rock path, and sat staring at a herd of cows in a pasture as they stared back at me. With a little reluctance my dad followed and ended up enjoying the entertainment of the cows.
When we got home we took a bottle of wine up behind the house and sat talking for about an hour or so. My yard was large throughout my entire childhood, but within the last few years, while I've been away, my dad cleared out the rolling hills behind my house to create a beautiful field with scattered ancient trees. I'm not sitting 3 hills up in a clear area beneath trees, which is surrounded by the forest on 3 sides. One only needs to turn around, away from the house, to feel as though you're completely secluded from any and all human beings. At such a distance, all that could be heard is bugs and birds.
I want to live here again so badly, but I know that now is not the best time. Who knows, maybe if Greg wasn't in my life it would be possible, but then again I'd probably just be willing to move back here because I was content with settling with some common guy. Greg is not common. He could not be replaced. And although life with him up here would be amazing, without him it would be quite unbearable.
I can't believe I ever left this place. It's such a pity that in order to enjoy a world which I lived in for 18 years I need to pull all sorts of scheduling and financial magic tricks to make a 4.5 day visit possible. Whenever I come here I feel as though time slows down.
The silence of the nights is enough to want to move back home. I go to sleep in silence, without the pitter patter of feet above or below me, vacumms, running, people yelling, horns blowing on the street, or children screaming in a yard next door. The nights are passed completely restless, in the deepest, most rejuvinating sleep imaginable. The sounds of crickets and the gentle rush of wind tossling leaves in the trees lull you into a dream-riddled slumber. Upon waking there is no desire to remain at rest, no resistance to waking, because your night was slept through so throughly that you feel entirely recharged.
Every minute feels like an hour; there is no race through crowds and buildings, obstacles causing anxiety and frustration. Here, there is no such thing as time.
Yesterday was my first full day home in the valley. I woke up after a restful night, did my hair, and got ready for the day. My father took me for lunch at this adorable restaurant off the side of a winding road in Tunkhannock. The entire structure was constructed of wood, the interior a sort of cabin with pictures of wildlife and country-like paintings covering the walls. The menu was endless and we enjoyed a great conversation in the booth next to a window which overlooked a very small creek.
Afterward, we went to a Monarch butterfly sanctuary. The main bulding was full of nature and wildlife tokens and decorations; a table which sprouted branches that held strings of butterflies and flowers, garden ceramics of frogs and turtles, dishware with floral designs. I wish I could decorate my entire imagined home with pieces from that store. The Monarch butterfly sanctuary was beautiful - there was butterflies wandering everywhere, and we learned a lot.
Then my dad and I went to one of the only wineries around and I found two great red wines which I loved, and my father was kind enough to get me both of them.
After a nap, my dad and his fiance, Marie, took two bottles of wine into the backyard and drank around a small fire. The embers glowing and popped as my dad pushed them around in the pit, the fire growing vibrant then fading in steady intervals, burning my feet, then causing me to lean closer to avoid a chill. It was gorgeous, and the conversation most intellectual and pleasing.
Today my dad and I hung out by the pool: I layed and got a tan, and dunked myself in a bit. Then we went for my favorite chicken wings, which I haven't had in 2 years because I've been eating only organic meat. It was delicious; everything I always remembered and loved. Then we went to Francis Slocum state park and rented a row boat to take out on the lake. We both did pretty well rowing and we saw a bald eagle. It was so relaxing floating on the lake, talking about life and enjoying the scenery. After, we went to Hillside Farms and had ice cream, checked out some ducks, sunflowers, chickens, goats, roosters, and sheep. I heard cows at the top of the hill and rushed across a stream, climbed up a delapidated rock path, and sat staring at a herd of cows in a pasture as they stared back at me. With a little reluctance my dad followed and ended up enjoying the entertainment of the cows.
When we got home we took a bottle of wine up behind the house and sat talking for about an hour or so. My yard was large throughout my entire childhood, but within the last few years, while I've been away, my dad cleared out the rolling hills behind my house to create a beautiful field with scattered ancient trees. I'm not sitting 3 hills up in a clear area beneath trees, which is surrounded by the forest on 3 sides. One only needs to turn around, away from the house, to feel as though you're completely secluded from any and all human beings. At such a distance, all that could be heard is bugs and birds.
I want to live here again so badly, but I know that now is not the best time. Who knows, maybe if Greg wasn't in my life it would be possible, but then again I'd probably just be willing to move back here because I was content with settling with some common guy. Greg is not common. He could not be replaced. And although life with him up here would be amazing, without him it would be quite unbearable.