Above is a picture of my driveway. And to me, it is one of the most beautiful things in the world. Not the pavement itself (I am not THAT crazy), but the way it fades away into the woods. It reminds me of a line in one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost, about the road less traveled.
There is beauty to be found in going ones own way. Too many times, I have been lured towards someone else's sense of beauty, and been disappointed. Not that what I saw wasn't beautiful... just that it wasn't really for me. Cities that I have been told are exciting or quaint, just end up being another overpopulated shit hole. Meanwhile, cities that I have been told I would hate, oftentimes hold good memories for me. Maybe it was because I went in fearing the worst, and then found things less bad than I thought (All except for Detroit... That town I was told was a hellhole and I found everyone was right about that one! I have fond memories of Cleveland, Pittsburgh and Cincinnati, yet remember being disappointed in San Francisco, Philly and Las Vegas. Phoenix and Nashville were both full of charm, while I found Miami, Baltimore and New Orleans a bit worse for wear. I am sure others may find my opinions backward. As I said, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It is rare that I find cities beautiful. Instead, I like scenes that are closer to what my driveway looks like. Since I was young, I have always had a desire to run away to the woods and recharge. I used to love to go up to my Aunt and Uncles farm in Canada when I was a kid. In my teen years, I would often go hiking by myself or with my dog in Hartshorne Woods. The trail was about 3 and a half mile and ran in a loop. You could walk from Navesink all the way to Twin Lights if the mood struck you. Oftentimes, I would go right before sundown. If you walked up the right loop of the trail you could branch off and walk up a steep incline. Once you made it to the top, there was a big rock (or group of rocks, it's been a long time) that would let you look out over what I always called the Buttermilk Valley. Oddly enough, I don't know if that is what it was really called or not. It must have been, because I likely would not have come up with such a sappy name for it on my own! Even so, I would often hike up there alone with a small cooler or a cigar or pipe, and sit at the base of the large rock and watch the sun go down over the valley. It wasn't a perfect view, but it was a nice view and it was very peaceful. I'd sit there and watch until dusk started to fall and the shadows were getting long. Many times, I would go down the hill again practically in the dark. I didn't mind. I enjoyed catching a buzz up there alone in the quiet. Sometimes I would hear people above me on the rock. Sometimes they would smell my cigar or pipe and stop down to chat. That was okay too. I'd share a beer with them and talk awhile. But the best times were when no one bothered me, and I got to sit there and enjoy the view with my own thoughts. I find my home at the top of "my" mountain has the same feel for me. I do not have a view overlooking the mountains or a valley. In fact, I am surrounded by trees, But I still love to look out the window of my office, or go stand on my front porch and look out over my yard and into my woods. I like to feel the sun on my face (or a brisk wind) as I stand and listen to the wind blow through the pines. The peacefulness I get from that just can't be found in the city. Do I ever miss the city? Yes, sometimes. I still like to go to museums or go to concerts etc. and for that, cities are useful. People watching is also usually more fun in the city too... since you get a hell of a lot more variety. But even so, I would not trade my little slice of heaven for an apartment anywhere near the city. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and for me, I have found that beauty in the hills of New Hampshire.
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