If you end up buying a weekend place in the Catskills, there will likely be many evenings spent outside on a porch or a deck.  Your over-stimulated brain will thank you for these moments, especially at dusk when the curative powers of the Catskills wield their might.

For me, this practice of observing dusk has become a form of meditation; eyes wide open with full attention on the present. I see the breeze as it sways the trees and leans on the long grasses in the meadow. I hear a morning dove coo, an owl hoot, a cacophany of frogs croak.  I watch as a swarm of dragonflies bob and weave in the sky and watch the cloud formations transform from white, to pink, to purple, to gray. I smell the air, fresh and fragrant. Just the way summer air should smell.

Sure, my zen is occasionally interrupted by a bug smacking me in the face but usually it's the bats that reset my attention as they dart about making life slightly less buggy. It's usually around this time that I retire inside. Clear-headed and grateful for being fortunate enought to own this little slice of the Catskills.

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