The Hills of Pennsylvania.

I found myself in the hills of Pennsylvania, with nothing but the greenery and the quiet, calming sound of nature around me. Birds chirping, bees buzzing, wind blowing through the trees... you know, all of that cliché nature shit. I call it the Hills of Pennsylvania because my s/o once wrote a song with that title that he plays from time to time and whenever we venture in to his old stomping ground, I can never get that song out of my head. I also call it that because Philadelphia (very much city) and northern PA (very much not city) are two very different places, so calling it the hills of Pennsylvania with it's numerous green, rolling hills just seems appropriate. 

I have some family that is from PA and, apparently, I had been there once when I was very little, although I don't remember it. Visiting Jason there for a week two Christmases ago when it was covered in snow was quite the experience. Now that we live a mere hour away, however, I have found myself in various parts of PA almost every weekend getting to know it in every season on a much more personal level; my s/o in the driver's seat pointing out old memories through the window.

I have come to like it much more than I like New Jersey. (No offense, Jewwwsey.) While New Jersey is beautiful and incredibly close to the (New York) city that holds my heart, Pennsylvania is something else entirely. And while the people are still East Coasters, at least they don't scowl at you as if they're plotting your death when you politely smile making eye contact with them in the grocery store. I just want some laundry detergent, I don't want to murder you.

We ventured down to Norristown, PA two weekends ago to visit Jason's two aunts and get ready for a huge soiree they were having. It's true what they say about East Coast summers- they're humid, they're sticky, and they're absolutely beautiful. With all of this green it's as if I am living in another world entirely and while California is still the best place on the planet, I can definitely see the East Coast's appeal.

The party was for Jason's visiting aunt from California, his little cousin's birthday, and an array of other celebrations all thrown into one. As a turn of events, about halfway through the party, Jason's uncle showed up with bottles of champagne, presents, and a speech congratulating Jason and I on our engagement. Everyone yelled and cheered and Jason (of course) sprayed the champagne on us all. It was great.

We partied through the night.

I couldn't stop smelling the air and even though I consider myself a writer, I hate to admit that I don't think I could ever describe it enough to do it justice. You'll just have to visit someday during the summer and smell it for yourself.

When Jason pulled out my guitar and handed it to me, I was peer-pressured in to singing for everyone even though I disclaimed repeatedly that I had had a cold for the last week and a half. 

I sang the song I wrote for Jason entitled Pennsylvania. I figured it was appropriate. One verse in and I already had his aunt in tears. Throughout the evening I would hear, "Taylor, play it again!" and so I did. Probably about 17 more times, in fact. 

It was a weekend for the books. We went to PA again the weekend after that and Saturday morning we're heading back to Philly. I didn't realize moving to New Jersey would allow me so much time in Pennsylvania, but... I'm glad it is.