The Empty Mountain Resort

This year instead of our usual tradition of eating too many hot dogs and suffering through the heat and fireworks, we spent the Fourth of July at a strangely empty resort at the foot of the mountain. As we wandered about the quiet grounds and admired the freshly set banquet tables outside the white pavilion, we mused that it felt like someone had planned a party and then the volcano had erupted. The stillness combined with the careful maintenance of the place gave everything an unreal, magical air.

In the evening we watched the clouds roll in silently over the hills. The forest was quiet and cool, and we had a delicious dinner with wine and oysters and Spanish guitar. I fell asleep watching the flames in the fireplace, and listening to a conversation in Russian drifting in from outside and through the fir trees. I felt happier than I have felt for a long time.

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