That's why I ran to the hills today - to escape. The White Mountains aren't exactly hills - they're real bonafide mountains, with snowy peaks and moody weather patterns. See?
Not sure what I'm going to do, now that I'm here. I just knew that I had to get away for a few days. I left my fiction novel at home because that would have felt too much like 'working' when actually I'm here to NOT work. Although I am here to write. Catching up on this blog is a good start. At least it gets the fingers flying over the keyboard without too much concern for grammar, word limits, structure etc...just write...that's the ticket.
Wonder if this old Inn is haunted? Guess I'll let you know if it is...I hope so...I love haunted...
Here's the room I finally chose after way too long searching for the perfect escape - it's the only room at the Inn with a desk, which of course was my number one concern, after the four poster bed, fireplace, wi-fi, cable (movies) and within staggering home distance of a good pub...as I said...it took me a while to find this but it was well worth the 4+ hour drive.
The bathroom is gorgeous too, with a shower AND a soaking tub. Luxury! Of course, I already set out the candles and poured the wine...not a stranger to pampering myself...
So the last time I took off for a break by myself was in April 2011 - 3 years a go, not 2! Just checked the date on this tree house pic to find out when I took it. Lincoln, Vermont, during MUD season. Not the smartest timing but again, well worth the drive. The sense of escape begins with the drive - the longer the better. Can't believe I waited 3 years to do this again! No wonder my foot was so heavy on the gas pedal. I felt exactly the same about escaping back then - only then it was to work on something specific. This time I can write about anything I want. It's a luxury not many writers have (if you want to pay the bills) so best not to lose too much time here.
This incredible structure was hand built by a man and his son over three summers. 95 sq ft of 'living space' set 30 ft up in the canopy of several sturdy trees...it literally rocked when the wind blew the branches. I guess I didn't mind the rock hard futon mattress in the loft, which was accessed by climbing a wall ladder then pivoting your bum onto a narrow ledge then shuffling to the right and onto the 'bed' without tipping forward and plummeting to your death. I am afraid of heights so didn't dare look over the side of the bed except to take the photo below. No guard rails - just fear of falling to hold you in place.
It was fun listening to the animals scurry across the roof just inches from my face all night. And there's seriously nothing quite as comforting as being rocked in the arms of the trees. Well, perhaps the memory foam mattress I get to sleep on tonight could come close... I'm not knocking the rustic nature of the tree house at all...that's why I chose it...I'm just noticing my radically different choice of venue for this particular trip. Last time I craved the silence of the woods. Now I'm happy to hear voices outside the windows and ready to check out Horsefeathers for dinner.
Anytime I let the universe know I'm ready for a little adventure it never disappoints. Hmmm...why did Ivor Cutler just come to mind? The bird flew into the cat's mouth. "When I get out of here," it said, "I'll have a tale to relate!"