West Virginia is a place without an agenda. It's slowly paced, sparsely inhabited, and when you pull in to get gas you see freshly shot deer bungeed to trailers. It's exactly what you think it'll be like. Towering red barns and cylindrical silos decorate hilly farms. Quaint, shabby houses add character to the long, desolate, drive.
It's the type of beautiful you can't quite put your finger on. It's thekind of place where you ask yourself "Who in the world actually lives here?!" But with just a quick glance around, you know. You can perfectly imagine the bumpkin character that will step out of that front door without even meeting a soul.
Brady and are eating up our metropolitan life here in D.C.. Yet when we find ourselves in the mountains we both look at each other like we've made a grave mistake ever leaving the woods behind. There is something about the mountains that makes me feel contently anchored, at home.
We spent the night at our friends' cabin. Their family is a bi-product of two intelligent people falling in love at an east coast art school. Their children are adorable and are totally responsible for introducing Liam both to Legos and Star Wars.
Halloween was probably just as fun today, as a parent watching my kids, as it was when I was a kid dressed up and frantically collecting candy. 
