She remains. Pristine, Breath taking. Even more beautiful in the winter. The contrasts greater. The red Pennsylvania clay against the backdrop of freshly fallen snow. The deep green of the pines, waving slowly above their brown trunks, pressed against the bright blue sky.The sting of a cold breeze rushing over the hillside, there is no "camp" smell, not now, there is no camp sound, just the whistling of the racing wind. It's noisy for a place with no living creature stirring.
My heart beats faster as I walk through the umbrella of pine, along a path that I've walked so many times before. It's been a while, I once promised never to come back here, and why should I? My camp has been neglected, beaten down. It had become painful to visit especially since I am unable to help. I come back because Swago is still there and as long as it is their is hope.
There is so much in life that comes and goes, yet Swago remains.
Despite all the obvious signs of neglect, she is still beautiful.
