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Our Cabin at The Clouds The real peak of the delight of my summer holidays. The joy and bliss of life beyond suburbia is completely summed up by skies at the north. This area has been my entire life of each summer and weekend by a young age, and shared with my grandparents and parents the exact same manner. There's an instant feeling of walking throughout the threshold of security, independence, and pure paradise. The instant feeling of familiarity, though it's a vast openness of a world you can never fully experience, that relieves all of the stresses of reality and frees you with all the security of nothing but good. That's the way I always felt when I arrived here; it had been a detox, a rehab of the mind. Though it might not be feelings shared with everyone, that the woodlands of the northeast have always felt just like home my property. Like voiced by Thoreau and Emerson, the woods offer simplicity and innocence. The bustling town is muddy, it is windy and grey, but the temptations of the automobile's engine racing from the city limits seems to coincide with the brightness and the liveliness that grows the further you escape . Hours fly and the street starts to rise and end as the clouds lean. When my ears begin to pop I know I am nearing my destination. I roll down my window, looking in the trees as they fly , and the sharp air wakens me since the new pine overcomes and relaxes my every being. The long road to my parent's house goes for miles, however a small post in the ground marks the dirt drive the climbs up on the property. Driving slowly I detect the way the changes of the season and also the period between my last visit has ever so slightly altered the surroundings. The car shakes back and forth with the unevenness of the rugged little road. It is quiet for a moment,...