On July 17-19, 2022 I took a mini-vacation to Emmitsburg, Maryland, 30 minutes away from my new home in Waynesboro, PA. The main purpose of my trip was just to have some time away from the day-to-day responsibilities and to decompress from the stress of having made a major move. I also planned on doing some thinking about my life, my current path, and what I would like the next few decades to look like. I rented an AirBnB cottage, but I couldn’t check in until 3pm on the 17th, so I had lined up a list of sights I wanted to see before checking in.

National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton

My first stop on my mini-vacation was the National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. She was the first native-born U.S. citizen to be canonized by the Roman Catholic Church. (She was canonized in 1975 by Pope Paul VI.) She was born in New York in 1774 to a prominent Episcopalian family, then married wealthy businessman William Magee Seton in 1794 (she was 19) and eventually had five children with him. In late 1803, her husband died from tuberculosis. They had traveled to Italy in hopes of improving his health, but he died while they were there. During their time in Italy, however, Elizabeth had attended Catholic services with friends and found the Eucharist to be especially significant to her. By 1805, she had returned to New York and converted to Catholicism.

There’s a lot to explore on the grounds of the shrine, but I wanted to see the basilica before the 11am mass, so that was my first stop. I was greeted by Sister Pat, a tall, white-haired woman who walked with a cane. She gave me a brief tour of the space, then left me on my own to take photos before mass began.

The first stop on my tour with Sister Pat was the Chapel of Holy Agony. With its luminous blue ceiling, brilliant stained-glass windows, and mosaic-tiled curved walls, it is a stunning room that feels sacred yet intimate.

Visitors are allowed (even encouraged) to touch the mosaics on the walls and examine the beauty of the stained-glass windows up close.

After visiting the Holy Agony Chapel, Sister Pat and I entered the main part of the basilica, which is absolutely beautiful and adorned with numerous types of marble and more mosaics.

Sister Pat described Mother Seton as a “woman on the move,” given the fact that she was originally buried on her Emmitsburg property (in 1820), then was moved (in 1846) to the mortuary chapel that her sons had built. Then in 1963, when she was beatified, she was exhumed and her remains placed in a copper casket and enshrined above the alter in St. Joseph’s College Chapel. Finally, in 1968, her remains were transferred to the newly built Shrine, where they rest now (they are still in the copper casket, but now are enshrined in marble for protection from theft). She was definitely a “woman on the move”!

After being awed by the interior of the basilica, I headed out to the equally beautiful grounds of the shrine complex. Below are photos showing the Sacred Heart Cemetery, which is the final resting place for the Daughters of Charity. It’s obviously newer than the older St. Joseph Cemetery, which you’ll see later in this post. Serene and orderly are the words that best describe the Sacred Heart cemetery.

There was a footbridge at one end of the cemetery that led into a clearing in the woods where this statue of Mary stood. There were benches on the perimeter of the circular path around the statue. It was a lovely place to sit except for the fact that it was very hot, humid, and buggy. I admired the statue and then crossed back over the footbridge.

Not far from this cemetery is what is called the Stone House (below). This was the first permanent home Elizabeth Ann Seton lived in when she came to Emmitsburg. It was originally built in 1750, but she moved to it in July 1809. She lived for 7 months here with her children and companions. Sixteen people occupied four rooms, two upstairs and two down, with one of the smaller lower rooms used as a temporary chapel. At that time, the house was very rustic, so much so that in winter, those sleeping in the attic would often awake to find their feet covered in snow. Over time, the Stone House was expanded to allow more women to live in the home.

The stone house was not open at the time, so I wandered on through the Legacy Garden.

From the Legacy Garden, I moved on to St. Joseph’s House (below), which was also called the White House. One of Mother Seton’s favorite saints was St. Joseph, so she named a lot of things in his honor. It was in this house (which was built in the winter of 1809-1810) that she founded St. Joseph’s Academy, the first free Catholic school for girls run by an order of sisters in the United States. Girls from both wealth and poverty learned subjects like reading, writing, music, French, and embroidery. It was also in this house that she died on January 4, 1821, from tuberculosis. It was closed at the time, so I did not get to see the interior, but I will do that on a future trip because it is set up in just the way it was back when Mother Seton lived and worked there, and it even has some contents that are 200+ years old.

From St. Joseph’s House, I walked a path to St. Joseph Cemetery. Though the cemetery has been around since 1809, the mortuary chapel was built after Mother Seton’s death. Her remains were moved there in 1846.

The following are some additional photos from my time exploring the Shrine.

As I was walking back to my car, church bells rang out, playing the hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty.” It seemed a fitting end to my time at the Shrine of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. It felt good to get off my feet and into the refreshing air-conditioning of the car, and I set off for my next stop, the National Shrine Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes.

National Shrine Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes

In 1858, Bernadette Soubirous, a young country girl of Lourdes, France, saw the Blessed Virgin Mary 18 times. The National Shrine Grotto of Our Lady of Lourdes is a replica of the Lourdes setting where Bernadette saw the Virgin Mary. John Watterson, president of Mount St. Mary’s College, began work on the grotto in 1875.

The parking lot for the National Shrine Grotto is on a fairly steep incline, which you then have to walk down to get to the road leading to the entrance. Once on that main road, it’s not too far to the entrance, but it’s uphill all the way (they do have special transportation for those who can’t make this hike from the parking lot). So the terrain, plus the fact that a steady stream of visitors was walking that path, made it feel like a pilgrimage of sorts. The walk from the parking lot led past St. Anthony’s Cemetery (shown below) and Mount St. Mary’s Cemetery.

Those of us on the pilgrimage from the parking lot finally reached level ground, where we were greeted by an angel (who, at first glance, looked to me to be giving us the finger), a scenic view of the valley below, and the visitor’s center. (The well-known Pangborn Memorial Camponile, a 95-foot-high bell tower on which a 25-foot, gold-leafed bronze figure of the Blessed Mother stands, was covered because it was undergoing restoration.) The visitor’s center had a beautiful roofline (below right). It also conveniently housed “St. Bernadette’s Gift Shoppe.” I was just glad to see that it housed St. Bernadette’s restrooms as well.

Behind the visitor’s center, the path to the grotto beckoned with its shade, its gentle downhill slope, and the outstretched arms of Jesus. Who could resist?

As I made my way down Corpus Christi Lane, the temperature dropped at least 10 degrees due to the fact that the path was surrounded by so many trees and basically cut through the rocky hillside. Descending into the shade and coolness, I felt as if I was entering a different realm. There were many statues and vignettes along the way. Not being Catholic, I didn’t really have a connection to many of these, but many people stopped and prayed at certain areas. I definitely appreciated the hushed, sacred feel all along the path. The main path eventually led to the grotto cave area, where the statue of Our Lady of Lourdes stands (see below). There were actually many people praying here, but since I was on the path above the area, I was able to take a photo without getting the people in the picture. It would not have seemed respectful to me to take a photo that included those who were praying.

Heading back down the path, I came to the Corpus Christi Chapel (below). The photo on the left actually shows the back of the chapel, with a statue of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. The photo on the right shows the front of the chapel.

Depicted in the four stained-glass windows directly below are (from left to right): John Dubois, founder of Mount St. Mary’s College in 1808; Thomas McGovern; Elizabeth Ann Seton, founder of the Sisters of Charity; and Simon Brute, who worked to make the grotto more beautiful and accessible (he laid the paths). The photo at bottom left is a close-up of another window in the chapel. The photo at bottom right is a statue of Our Lady of Lavang. The statue and accessories are from Vietnam. It also looks like there’s a money symbol beneath her, but I imagine it means something else.

A natural spring runs nearby, and I read somewhere that priests have blessed the faucets here. I also read that the water is not called “holy water” unless a priest blesses the actual water (but there are priests at the shrine ready to do so), but they’ve supposedly blessed the faucets and the state of Maryland has deemed the water safe to drink. So I filled my special purple water bottle with possibly holy, probably blessed, but positively potable water.

By the time I left the grotto area and made it back to my car, I was hot and tired and my feet were begging for relief, but I was glad I had taken the time to visit such a special, interesting place.

St. Anthony’s Church (Emmitsburg, MD – campus of Mount St. Mary’s)

When I left the Grotto, I drove past a beautiful church. I was hot, tired, and hungry, so I stopped in the shaded parking lot and ate a lunch I’d brought from home, then took photos. (Some of the photos below were taken two days later, when we had blue skies.) I learned later that the church was dedicated in 1897.

The flowers of St. Anthony’s.

Catoctin Mountain Orchard (Thurmont, MD)

Catoctin Mountain Orchard was my next stop. It’s a large farm market right off US Highway 15. I bought some yellow squash, tart cherry juice, and kettle corn (that’s a vegetable, right?). I also paid to cut my own flowers. For $16, they will give you a container and shears and you can cut as many flowers as you want that will fit in the container. Below are a few photos of the beauties I chose.

Roddy Road Covered Bridge (Thurmont, MD)

Even after all I had done so far, I still had a little time to kill before checking in to the AirBnB cottage, so I visited the Roddy Road covered bridge. Built in 1856, the bridge sits where Roddy Creek Road meets Roddy Road at Owens Creek. It is 40 feet long, 16 feet wide, and has a clearance of 12 feet 8 inches. It’s a single-span, one-lane Kingpost-design bridge. The Kingpost truss is the oldest truss design, but most of the bridge is actually now a replica of the original because it was damaged at least twice by oversized trucks that got stuck. It is the smallest of the covered bridges still in existence in Maryland.

After spending some time enjoying the beauty of the bridge and Owens Creek, it was finally time for me to check in to the AirBnB. And after a day full of very active sightseeing, I was ready!

AirBnB Cottage (Emmitsburg, MD)

The AirBnB I rented for my brief vacation was a cottage that was built in the 1750s. At the time it was built, it was only one story. The second story was added sometime in the mid-1800s. The cottage sits on the banks of the Monocacy River. To get to it, I had to first drive through the gate at the front of the property, then past the owner’s daughter’s house, then past some fields, and past a big open barn-type event space. It felt very private but also very safe.

The driveway brings you to the back of the cottage, as the front faces the river. In the group of photos below, the top-left photo shows the rear of the house from the drive leading to it. To the right in the photo is a gazebo overlooking the riverbank. (This part of the river is not very attractive, so I didn’t include photos of it.) The lower-left photo below shows the front of the cottage. The photo on the right is the attached springhouse, which is currently just used for storing outdoor stuff.

The photo below shows part of the main living area. That’s the front door to the right in the photo. In the original one-story house, it probably led directly into the kitchen (with that large stone fireplace, which is original). There most likely would have been an interior wall or some sort of partition separating the kitchen from the other side of the current living room, and that would have been a parlor.

The photo on the left below shows the other side of the living room (some part of that side would have been the parlor in the original home). The photo on the right below is another view of the original stone fireplace.

The photo at below left shows the part of the house that you see to the left when you walk in the front door. Just to the left of the sofa in the picture is the entrance to the kitchen. The kitchen is modern now, of course, and that room would have originally been a bedroom. The photo at below right just shows a little more clearly how, when you walk in the front door, you can walk straight past the fireplace on the right and down a short hallway. There is a small half-bath to the right past the fireplace and then if you go to the left, you can go upstairs.

As mentioned before, the upstairs appears to have been added sometime in the mid-1800s. Three of the doors in the upstairs are original. The photos below are of the main bedroom and its adjacent sitting room. There was one other bedroom and a bathroom on this floor, but I didn’t take photos because they were fairly ordinary. From the cozy sitting room to the charming window seat to the bed that was as soft as a cloud, this is the most comfortable bedroom I’ve ever stayed in.

The photos below show some of the details in the upstairs rooms. I’m sure most are not original to the house, but they add to the charm nonetheless.

The current owners of the house put together a book full of historical records they found regarding the house. They also had an expert come out to look at the place back in 2016 and tell verify the era it was from. Here is part of the expert’s letter that I found very interesting:

“The joist system is exposed and is a significant character defining feature of the house. The hewn joists appear to have been exposed originally, as indicated by remnants of whitewash on them. Notable is the large summer beam that runs across the house, east to west. The joists rest on top of the summer beam, rather than being mortised into it. This placement of the joists on top of the beam is a practice that tends to be associated with very early construction and is likely an 18^th-century feature. The summer beam that originally spanned the length of the house was cut to allow for construction of the staircase.”

In the photos below, you can see this summer beam. In the group of three photos directly below, the far-left picture shows the summer beam as viewed from the entrance of the home (the front door). The middle photo shows it from the opposite side, facing the front door. The far-right photo shows how the joist in this part rests atop the summer beam. In the pair of photos below these, the left photo shows the summer beam as viewed from inside the kitchen. The right photo is a close-up of the beam.

Here’s another part of the expert’s letter I found of interest:

“From a standpoint of its architectural history, the house is important as an early dwelling and a survivor of a housing type that was once very common, but now rare. While often the larger and more substantial houses of the people of means are kept, this house represents the typical dwelling place of the majority of early Frederick Countians. The summer beam with the joists resting on top of it is a particularly rare and significant feature, worthy of preservation. The alterations express the evolving use of the house over two and a half centuries.”

Below are a couple of interesting details of the home (again, probably modern but still charming) and my hand-cut bouquet in one of the cottage windows.

Catoctin Furnace (Thurmont, MD)

After getting settled at the cottage, I decided to go back out and see a few more sights. The weather forecast was for thundershowers later and the next day, so I wanted to see as much as I could before the storms began. Catoctin Furnace was my next stop. In addition to being the site of an iron furnace, the village nearby is referred to as Catoctin Furnace.

The Monocacy River Valley, at the foot of Catoctin Mountain, was an ideal area for iron production. It had rich ore deposits, flowing streams that could drive the bellows, and a large forest that could supply charcoal. Four brothers — James, Baker, Roger, and Thomas Johnson — bought land at the foot of the Catoctin Ridge and built an iron furnace which was up and running by 1776. It produced a variety of tools and household items, and toward the end of the Revolutionary War it produced ammunition for the Continental Army. Thomas went on to become Maryland’s first governor. In 1803, his brother Baker was the sole owner of the furnace. Over time, a village built up around the furnace site, to house the workers and supply their needs. In 1857, “Isabella,” a new furnace powered by steam-operated machinery and a 33-foot-high furnace stack was added to the complex. That is what still stands. The 1858 casting shed has been reconstructed next to it.

In the early days, African slaves were the majority of the workforce at Catoctin Furnace. Many were skilled and highly experienced craftsmen, some worked in the vineyards or agricultural areas, and others worked as domestic servants. In 1820 John Brien, a wealthy Irish immigrant, bought the furnace. By the mid-1800s, the number of enslaved workers dropped dramatically as European immigrants moved into the area. That didn’t mean the slaves were freed, though. Many were likely sold to buyers in southern states.

Ironmaster’s House

On a hill not far from the furnace are the ruins of what was called the Ironmaster’s House, or Catoctin Manor. It was built around 1785. Outbuildings included quarters for domestic servants (slaves) and a carriage house. Directly below are a few photos of the house from 1936, when it was more intact. Below that are my photos of the ruins.

African American Cemetery

At least 271 enslaved people of African ancestry worked here between the 1770s and the 1840s, and there is a trail that leads to the area where many of them are buried. In the 1970s, new attention was given to the African American cemetery when the highway construction began. Researchers found the names of 271 enslaved workers in diaries, runaway ads, wills, and land records. Many were only identified by their first names, and some only by “unknown.” The ironworker’s silhouette in the photo below is surrounded by the names of these people. As visitors read their names, these people are remembered. Walking the trail in the hot, humid weather, with bugs buzzing around me and forest growth closing in, I felt a sense of oppression. But I was there by choice, and I could leave when I wanted. I cannot even imagine how the people who were wrenched from not only their homes but their homeland felt, knowing they could not enjoy the simplest of human rights — freedom. I was moved by the names on the plaque below and read every one.

The Village

I actually went back two days later to see the village that built up around Catoctin Furnace. The weather was nicer and I had more time. So the photos below are from that day, but they belong with this post, so I’ve included them here. The photos below are of a collier’s log house (colliers were the workers who cut down trees and burned them to reduce the wood to charcoal for the furnace). The house is unusual because it is the only double log house (we would call it a duplex today) still in existence. It is believed that the larger section was built in 1810 and the smaller section added in 1830. Restoration took place in the 1980s.

Forgeman’s House

The house below was built around 1820. It has been restored but is representative of a worker’s home of its time.

Catoctin Furnace Trail

Though I came back to see the village homes two days after first visiting Catoctin Furnace, I hiked the trail below on the day of that first visit — the hot, muggy day. And the trail itself wound through fairly thick woods, so it was not the most pleasant experience. The humidity was stifling, and at one point it smelled like something had died nearby (stinky!).

The first bridge I came to (below) was a bowstring arch truss bridge, from around 1872. Truss bridges depend on compression and tension for support against the forces of gravity. The arch itself is under compression and tends to be pushed together by forces acting on it. The thinner diagonal and vertical braces are subject to tension and help support the deck and arch of the bridge.

The stairs below left were just a warm-up for the stairs leading to the screened walkway that crosses over US Highway 15. My legs got a workout!

There really wasn’t too much to see on this trail — some piles of slag from back in the iron-forging days and just the general area where workers I hurried back over the elevated walkway, through the stinky area (breathed through my mouth and hoped it was just an animal that had died), across the bowstring arch bridge, and out into the clearing at the trailhead. Done exploring for the day, I called in a carry-out order at nearby Simply Asia, and headed out.

Back at the cottage, my evening was complete with a delicious meal of seaweed salad, Maryland crab roll, and Thai iced tea, followed by a refreshing bath, a movie on DVD, and the bed that felt like a cloud. Not a bad day.

Day 2 of Vacation

On Monday, July 18, I stayed at the cottage all day. I slept late, then grilled some food for lunch on the propane grill just off the porch. I had originally planned to cook over a campfire in the fire pit, but it was just too hot out, even in the evenings, and the weather forecast was for more rain. Before the rain arrived, I walked around the grounds a bit. Some of the photos shown earlier are actually from this day.

Day 3 of Vacation

Cumberland Falls and Catoctin Mountain Park (Thurmont, MD)

On Tuesday, July 19, the last full day of my vacation, I woke early. The weather was beautiful — cool, with low humidity — so I set out to spend some time exploring two neighboring parks. My first stop was Cunningham Falls State Park, where I specifically wanted to take the trail to the falls. The easy trail, that is. After about 20 minutes of walking, I came to the overlook for the falls. My reaction? Meh. The falls were not nearly as impressive as I’d expected, and I’ve since heard others have had this reaction as well. But it was still a lovely day for a hike.

After viewing the falls, I returned to the car and drove to Catoctin Mountain National Park, which is right next to Cunningham Falls State Park’s northern border. There I first did a short, easy hike called Blue Ridge Summit Vista. Again, it wasn’t the most impressive vista I’ve seen, but still lovely.

It was starting to heat up a bit, but there was one more short trail I really wanted to hike — the Blue Blazes Whiskey Still Trail. The trail follows the banks of Blue Blazes Run to the site of a famous whiskey still. The Blue Blazes Whiskey Still was a large, illegal commercial distillery during the 1920s Prohibition era. When police raided the site in July 1929, they found coils, cooling boxes, hoses, and eighteen 500-gallon vats. The photo below shows how it appeared at that time.

The vats are no longer there, but the still is. The photos below look unnaturally green, but that is how it actually appeared. And the bench shown in the photo at below-right was at such a crazy angle, any person — drunk or sober — could easily have fallen off it.

By the time I finished the Whiskey Still Trail, the weather had changed from cool and dry to hot and muggy. The morning breeze had died, bringing out the gnats. So I left the parks and headed for the next logical destination — somewhere I could get ice cream!

Gateway Candyland (Thurmont, MD)

Gateway Candyland sells candy, ice cream, and probably some other stuff I don’t remember. According to their Facebook page (where I got the photo above), they have over 500 varieties of candy. I scanned the aisles of wrapped candy in hopes of finding two older, hard-to-find candies — Walnettos, which my mother used to get when she was a child (she and her grandfather would walk down to the store at the sawmill and buy a box of them, which he would tie a string around and she would pull behind her as they walked home), and a candy called Squirrel Nuts, which a friend of mine who grew up in southern Maryland told me she had when she was younger. I didn’t really think I’d find Squirrel Nuts — something tells me that name got phased out fairly quickly — but I was at least hoping to bring some Walnettos back to Mom. Alas, I found neither of these candies. I consoled myself at the ice cream counter, with two scoops of Hershey’s ice cream — one of coconut chocolate almond and one of dark chocolate raspberry truffle. I sat outside in the shade and savored each bite.

Then, with my sweet tooth satisfied, I set out for the last stop of the day — Loys Station covered bridge.

Loys Station Covered Bridge (Rocky Ridge, MD)

The Loys Station covered bridge is a one-lane, twin-span, multiple king post, wooden truss covered bridge, which carries Old Frederick Road over Owens Creek. It is 90 feet long and 14 feet wide. The bridge was actually burned by an arsonist in 1991, but was reconstructed using five of the original beams, and the re-milled king posts and knee braces. The bridge is one of only eight remaining covered bridges in the state of Maryland.

After visiting the bridge, I headed back to the cottage by the river to cool off.

The Bird

I had just returned to the cottage to spend some time contemplating my life and goals for the upcoming years, when I heard a loud thud against the bay window in the living room. When I looked out, I saw that a bird had hit the window, and hard. He appeared to be dead, but I know that sometimes they are just stunned for a while. Since he was lying out in the gravel in direct sun and heat, I decided that if he was alive I’d try to move him to a shadier spot. So, with a paper plate to collect him on, I went out to investigate. He was very clearly dead, though there wasn’t a mark on him. At least he died instantly and didn’t suffer, I thought.

He was a beautiful bird, and I’m still not sure what kind he was. I wouldn’t normally take photos of a dead bird, but I wanted to document his distinct markings so I could try to identify what kind of bird he was later. For several reasons (his pending decomposition beside the cottage’s front porch for one), I didn’t want to just leave him lying in the gravel under the window. I carried him on the paper plate and gently placed him in the shade at the base of a tree not far from the river bank. There were little yellow heart-shaped leaves around, so I placed one on him, then fashioned a flat cross near his head with two twigs. Then I made one more trek up to the house for my “holy water” and poured just a little over his beak. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

Afterthoughts

When I set off on this mini-vacation, my plan was to explore the region I’d be visiting but also explore my feelings about the path I am on in life and how I want the next few decades to look. I was looking forward to both aspects of this plan. I enjoy seeing new places and learning new things. I also enjoy sitting in quiet contemplation of “what has been” and “what might be.”

Knowing this time away would be just a short reprieve from my daily routine, I wanted to give it some meaning, have some way of marking my transition from the exploration of the outer world around me to the contemplation of my inner landscape. That is why I filled my special purple water bottle with the spring water at the grotto, and why I cut a bouquet of beautiful flowers to display. My intention was to set up a little altar space, so to speak – not for worship but for inviting quiet reflection. I would have added a candle as well, but the owner of the cottage had instructed that no candles be burned in or near the cottage. When I planned my little retreat, I envisioned myself, at the end of the three days, gaining clarity and the motivation to take decisive action upon my return.

But each time I sat down with my flowers and my glass of sacred water, I found it hard to focus. I had brought a list of questions to steer my thoughts, but clear answers didn’t come. And then, on that last day, just as I had settled down to think, a bird slammed into the window, distracting me from my quiet time. When I returned after placing him in the shade of the tree, I just sat and let my mind wander. And I began to see connections, patterns across the past few days. All seemed to involve the four elements – water, fire, air, and earth – in ways that reminded me not only of their opposing forces but also of their commonalities.

I thought about that first day — of entering the basilica, my gaze drawn upward to the expansive dome soaring above the pews, and then of walking among the tombstones in the cemeteries, reminders that we all return to earth eventually. I thought of the uphill trek to the entrance to the grotto, followed by the descent into the rocky hillside, where cool air and pure spring water offered salvation from the heat and humidity.

I remembered how the flowers that I’d cut straight from the earth had wilted in the heat before I could get them home, and I’d witnessed their revival not long after placing them in water. I thought about the covered bridges I’d seen. Both had been built to provide a safe crossing over the obstacle of water – the same water in which children found relief on a scorching summer day.

I thought of the cottage, with its massive stone fireplace that once provided warmth, light, and sustenance. The cottage, which somehow had survived 200+ years of open flame but now needed protection from it. I thought of the river that flowed nearby — still and murky upon my arrival but gurgling with life after several hours of rain.

I thought about my visit to Catoctin Furnace — a literal furnace — defunct but still able to evoke a visceral reaction in the stifling heat of summer, as I walked — sweat-drenched — among its ruins and pondered the heavy air of oppression that so many must have felt their entire lives.

Water and fire, heat and coolness, air and earth. Punctuated by the very real reminder that life can suddenly be cut short. Perhaps the most important thing is not the mark we make on the world at large, or the legacy we leave behind, or the plan we carefully craft and try to make happen. Perhaps it is more important that we explore our surroundings with an open mind and heart, then slow down occasionally to notice the patterns, the connections, and the meaning we choose to give them.