Near the smallish town called Somerset in Pennsylvania, my grandparents have a cabin. They have had this cabin since my mother was a child. Summers at “the cabin” are a long standing tradition in the family, and though I have not made it every summer of my life, it’s something I start thinking about every time summer rolls around. 
I was able to visit grama and papa at the cabin for a couple of weeks and spend fourth of July there. The swirly light image is of grama. You can’t see her, but she’s the one painting with a flashlight. There have been few changes to the place since I was a kid. The mountain the cabin is on is privately owned so there is a chance the owners might sell, but that hasn’t happened yet. The question I get asked most often, when people discover I’ve done a bit of traveling, is what was my favorite place. Well, this is it. 
