Of the fifteen Independence Days I've lived through, there have always been sunny skies for our vacation and clear skies for the fireworks (save the year I went to China, but I don't count it). This year, however, water was the theme of the day.
When we arrived at the hotel the evening before, it was raining, a kind of on-and-off drizzle like a fretful child's crying. One moment it was all clear, and then the next we had to huddle under our umbrellas to escape a sudden downpour. We were cross because we'd turned back, two hours into our drive, when we discovered we'd forgotten my mom's bag. The rain dashing our hopes for a hike around the lake didn't help our spirits.
It was still drizzling the next morning when we headed out to the main attraction, the famous feat of architecture, Fallingwater. High up in the mountains as we were, my phone lost connection (quite traumatizingly) and we could only follow the GPS's instructions. It led us higher and higher up a winding forested road.
It was quite beautiful. The quiet forest and the homes scattered throughout was cloaked in fog--or perhaps we had driven into a cloud. There were buildings, at first, old, abandoned sheds with the paint peeling off, lonely play-sets with their bright red and blue, rows of white and beige houses standing in fields.
Increasingly, forest replaced cultivated land and open field. Mist pooled around the thick trunks and green foliage, shrouding the depths in mystery.
We were the only ones on the fog-blanketed road. The view would have been easier to enjoy if the road wasn't filled with hills and curves that appeared only when we were almost at them. As we drove upwards, it became increasingly like driving through a sea, in which mysterious things appeared as we advanced.
At some point, we came across a niche in the road that we could park in, and we did to appreciate the scenery we had chanced upon.
The empty road proved to our benefit, as it allowed us to run around freely.
The signs of civilization reappeared and visibility improved enough that we could see those signs. As we drove, we passed a post office, a firehouse, and an ice-cream-pizza place. But our destination was up ahead.
Fallingwater was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for the Kaufmanns, who wanted a new cabin, preferably facing the beautiful waterfall. Wright instead designed "the greatest building of the twentieth century" and integrated it above the aforementioned waterfall.
The site was on Bear Run, where the Kaufmanns ran a summer camp, a briskly running stream swollen with the day's rain.
The sun was quickly burning out the fog; it had been raining still when we arrived, but we soon put away our umbrellas. The combination of a newly-fed waterfall and glistening sunlight made for beautiful outside views. The inside, however, was the main attraction.
We weren't permitted to take pictures inside. Wright took his inspiration from the waterfall and protruding stones, which defined the structure of the building. The interior wouldn't have been out of place in Japan, whose architecture Wright admired. There was even Japanese artwork to complete the impression. Glass windows provided views of the nature surrounding the building. It was air-conditioned by the cool air above the stream, which circulated through the building when the windows were opened.
In addition to glass windows, there were plenty of verandas from which to view the surroundings, where we were permitted to take pictures.
The day was cooling as we walked out and took a last look at the work of art integrated exquisitely with its surroundings.
noice
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