The Belfry

I think perhaps I should pack up and move myself to Virginia. I am not sure why, but the writer’s block I have experienced in recent months appears to be like Elvis and has left the building. My mind has been swirling with ideas, I have written an article for our Share  newsletter that I have been frustrated with, and I have even finished a few of my old blog posts. All in the past two days!

I spent the weekend at a work event in the Blue Ridge Mountains near where Virginia borders West Virginia, what is known as the Shenandoah Valley. The Shenandoah Valley links the Great Smokey Mountains and the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was in an area so remote that we had to fly into Washington DC, rent a car and then drive for four hours to get there. My boss, well, retired boss, has been there the previous three years, and I have always heard how peaceful, relaxing and beautiful this mountain vacation home is and felt a bit envious of  her, so in the days leading up to the trip, I was pretty excited about it.

And I wasn’t disappointed. From the time we turned onto the narrow gravel road that led us to The Belfry,

 

I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, so anxious to see what waited as we twisted and wound our way to the house. We were the last of our group to arrive due to flight delays and traffic getting out of DC, but great googly moogly…as we came up over a ridge…the house was a sight to behold.

From the second I stepped foot on the shale floor of the main entrance hall, I felt like I had stepped into a magical place. This spectacular stained glass front door welcomed us

 

and other than that, the first two things I noticed as I stepped over the threshold were this rock, placed on a huge table that looked as if it were made from an ancient tree trunk then coated with layers of shiny varnish

and a thick leather album containing poetry that had been inspired by others who have stayed at The Belfry over the years.

Within a few minutes of arriving, I was handed a glass of wine, shown to my room, which featured another beautiful stained glass window (each of the bedrooms did)

and was then ushered to the screened in octagon-shaped deck with hammock swings surrounding the perimeter.

 

 

Oh how I loved that swing! I didn't ever want to get out of it.

After dinner was served, we all settled into comfy chairs and couches in the great room that overlooked the mountain range.

 

and got to work. I’m not going to bore anyone by talking about the entire weekend, but I will say that house must have some magical properties. I slept better than I have slept in weeks, and I spent some time both nights I was there outside with my laptop sending my writer’s block packing.  

Maybe it was the cool mountain breezes that drifted through my bedroom window.

Maybe it was this incredible view.

 

Maybe it was the stillness, broken only by the sounds of whippoorwills, (so many whipporwills!) bees, and the awesome wind chime that hung just off the front porch. I love wind chimes anyway, but this wind chime tinkled out a soft sound of church bells, and it rang even when the breeze was so slight it couldn’t be felt.

Maybe it was just knowing that I was away from the hustle and bustle and chaos and uncertainty of my life, hanging out with people who don’t really ‘know’ me that enabled me to feel carefree and relaxed for a few days.

 I don’t know what it was…likely, it was a combination of all of the above. Whatever it was, I appreciated the diversion.

While this was a work trip, work was my least favorite part about it. Of course! I wish I would have had more time to explore, sit and think/read/write. We did have a break of about two hours on Saturday afternoon, and a small group of us took a walk down this gravel path.

 

I even learned how to play pool! On Sunday morning, I decided to skip breakfast because I wanted to read through the book of poetry, take another walk, and visit The Belfry’s replica of The Wailing Wall. It faces the west, just as it does in Jerusalem. I made my way through a gate, a buzz of mosquitos and bees and down a set of wooden steps.

 

I sat on a bench and wrote a few prayers on pages of the small notebook I brought with me.

 

It is said that the Wailing Wall is one of the most popular spots in the world for people to pray and believe their prayers will be answered. I hope with every fiber of my being that is true for the prayers I felt, wrote, and tucked into crevices amongst the stones.

I am home now, but I brought a bit of the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains with me.  For the past couple of years, I have made an effort to bring something home from my travels, and I find a way to display whatever it is so that I can keep the memories of my trips close by. From this trip, I gathered some rocks and have them arranged in a bowl on my desk.

 

The flight home from DC was a bit rough and rocky and turbulent, and I was so relieved when the wheels hit the runway in St. LouisThe ominous black clouds that the plane plowed through upon landing let loose with lightening and torrential rain just as I stepped off the shuttle that took me from the airport to my car in the parking lot. I drove home soaking wet, as if I’d taken a bath in my clothes. I arrived home bedraggled, soaking wet, shivering, but glad to be home, while still remembering the splendid mountains of Virginia.  I wish I could find a way to preserve the peace and calmness that enveloped me over the weekend in the same way I have put those sparkling stones in a dish.