Measure my life in dips in the "Pool of Men" and I won't complain.
Every summer, we make at least one pilgrimage to our friend James' cabin on the Maury River in the Goshen Pass, a remote backdoor to the Shenandoah Valley.
The most amazing thing about the place is its spirit, impossible to describe. It's a bask on a rock, a dip in the cool mountain water, a hike under the trees, or an amazing rocks-to-loaves feast where the food appears out of no where and it's incredible. It's blue grass on the porch and a breeze down the valley folds. It's the people who go there and the way your cares stay at bay while you're there.
I have described the experience at length before and will spare the long diatribe, but forgive one last gush: I love it there and I'm very grateful to be able to go.
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