One of the first items that Sue and I bought as a couple all those years ago was a grandfather clock. We used to snuggle under the blanket and listen to the chimes on the hour, the sound filling our house with a warmth and resonance.
That clock is nothing special, being simple in its design and technology. It's accurate because of the beauty of physics and math...and is a lost art form in its own right.
I thought a lot about time and place as we traveled this week. I thought a lot about place.
Sue and I finally took a brief vacation recently. Due to circumstances beyond our control, every plan we had made to get away earlier in the year came to naught. My father became ill and ended up in the hospital which we decided to stay home "just in case." He ended up in the hospital at least three times this past year, and I decided to spend what time I could with him.
Family, after all, is what brought us back to Pennsylvania.
We had planned on visiting friends in Tennessee and in Ohio but a promotion at work put that idea to rest, as I was frankly informed that my planned vacation time would interfere with the training I needed and therefore I should delay my planned time off. Other issues kept us juggling our vacation time.
Finally however we managed to assemble the puzzle pieces and have a plan. We ended up traveling eastward to State College, Lancaster County and Benezette, PA. We would not be gone long, but that is the beauty of having a half baked plan and only a rough destination in mind. That is the beauty of leaving clocks and schedules and even maps behind.
We traveled back roads, talked about everything and nothing and just breathed in what our great state has to offer, all within a few days and hundreds of miles. Purposely stopping at family owned diners and at a winery we passed on the way.
Our only plans were to visit Penn's Cave and then, because it's Elk mating season, view them in Benezette - where the elk have been known to cross the roads and eat in front yards. Other than that...we had no plan, no direction other than whatever way the car pointed.
We wanted to eat where the local's ate. Travel the back roads and stop when ever an interesting view or roadside attraction caught our eye; for example a brief conversation with our hotel staff outside of State College took us to the nearby village of Boalsburg. Were we ate at an old tavern dating back to 1819, and frankly sitting in the tavern made us feel as if we were transported back to that time and place.
A brief ride up the road to explore the town and we found an old IOOF building whose members found and ran an orphanage from 1897 to 1970. I’m not sure if the local chapter is still active, but I was happy to see that the lodge still had a place of honor in a thriving town. Both my wife and I are members of this fine organization.
Less than a mile from our hotel was the Center Furnace Mansion. Here we found ourselves given a private tour by a young woman who clearly loved the building and it's former owners, the Thompson family and what they had done not only for the local industry of the time but in the founding of what would eventually become Penn State.
Her knowledge and love of the house – and the fact that she accepted and encouraged us to open items and explore things – pointing out the original wall paper was still visible in a closet for example - made that time period and family all that more special.
We both enjoyed Penn’s Cave, it is unique in that you travel by boat with the caverns and tight passages, but because of Pennsylvania’s unique geology the cave simple did not have the color and grandeur of other caves we have been in.
Penn’s Cave has been attracting tourists since the mid 1880’s and evidence shows that the local native tribes were using the caves for food storage (the cave is 52 F or 11 C year round) and shelter for thousands of years before that.
As the boat bumped along the rocks and its lights reached into the darkness, I could not help but think of the explorers of old and their gas lit lanterns. How brave they were to enter and explore these unknowns and how the shadows must of played tricks on them.
From Penn's cave it was a matter of turning right or left. Left would take us back into Happy Valley. We turned right and with no clear destination in mind, headed into Pennsylvania Dutch country.
Passing Amish schools and farms, each with colorful prayer flags of laundry against the sky, and breathing in the clean air. It’s easy to get lost in the countryside. There are no worries as the miles role by, and soon even Sue and I stop chatting as we enjoy the cows and horses staring at our passing. We are deep in the country without a care in the world.
We spent some time in Amish country. Visiting a few stores, hunting for "Authentic" Cup Cheese. Every description that I had found differed somehow from the recipe I used when I made this cheese last January. In a cheese market outside of Lancaster, I finally found it.
My very yummy and spreadable Cup Cheese reminded me of Queso Blanco. The "Authentic" Cup Cheese here reminded my of a thick but still spreadable nacho cheese and had more of a cheddar taste.
We took a horse and buggy ride and enjoyed some homemade Honey pretzels and root beer made by a local family.
It's not all about food though and one thing that I did learn; although this seems only to apply to the Lancaster County area, is that the Amish don’t ride bicycles. Lancaster Amish instead prefer their scooters, because they see the bicycle as extending their travel both metaphorically and physically beyond their homes and land. While I admire much about the Amish; their lifestyle and how they approach technology in particular, I find this to be a bit much. Although there are historical and practical reasons for this decision as well.
For someone like me, who believes that "The world is always more interesting 50 miles from where I am standing" to be so rooted and tied to a sense of place seems exotic and alien.
I do understand that need to feel rooted. I've been lucky enough in my life to travel to 20 different states and 11 different countries. I've lived in 5 different cities, yet Pittsburgh's rivers flow through my veins and I've never met a group of people with more pride in their city. As we munched on the pretzels and drank the fine homemade root beer, you could taste the quality of the product and the sense of place that produced it.
Home is a mindset as much as it is a physical place.
With our belly's full we left the Amish behind and headed towards Benezette. Sue wanted to show me the Elk and see them up close. It was their rutting season and we hoped that we might be able to see the Bulls engage in a charge or two. Well there are other areas to see Elk, this small town is probably the best known.
After dinner and securing a room, we drove some and soon found a wounded elk laying in the woods, because he was injured park rangers directed us to move on. However we soon found other elk, including a whole herd under the watchful eye of one senior bull. Bugling could be heard in the distance, and he patrolled his harem with a watchful eye.
Sadly our small camera was not strong enough for the distances involved, so these photos are not mine, but they should give you an idea of how large and majestic these animals are.
As we pulled out in the morning, we could hear them bugling in the fog as we waited to catch a glimpse of more elk but sadly our luck did not hold. Somehow we connected with the highway and left the back roads of Pennsylvania behind.
Photographs and memories are all we really have left of that particular time and place. The root beer, pretzels and wine will be drank. These good memories will fad into the fog of time...and that is OK.
Because all we have left is a sense of time and place. Enjoy it.
You forgot about someone backing into our van, not leaving a note or anything and causing over $2400 in damage.
ReplyDeleteI thought about it Sue! I thought about it, but trying to stay positive. :)
DeleteBeauty of nature at one of its best. The countryside, how can anyone not love. I am a born country girl, and our children enjoyed it all. Playing in the creek catching frogs and making mud pies to sell. Doing farm chores. Belonging to 4H clubs and showing their beloved animals so proudly. Ayrshires, turkeys, goats, swine, and sheep. All this contributed to my children knowing responsibility and respect. They would be sweating on the hay wagons lifting the heavy bales(my daughters could out do the neighbor boys.) We would eat supper at midnight, but not before a jump into the pond, clothes and all. Cousins would stop by saying they were going swimming, see you later. Believe it or not they never complained or ask "we done yet?"
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