Blowin' in the Wind--TRIP 3 (2012)

The main plaza of the Memorial tells the story of Flight 93.

It was a beautiful day in south central Pennsylvania. A storm came through last night and blew out the haze. But weather forecasts this morning warned that this is the final weekend of summer, both by date and by temperature. Nighttime killer frost is on the way. In the meantime, I'll hum, "It's a lovely day today, and whatever you've got to do, you've got a lovely day to do it in. It's true."
Town names in southern Pennsylvania are so descriptive: Burnt Cabins, Clear Ridge, Claylick, Three Springs, Shady Grove. This rural country undulates with mile after mile of parallel ridges, lush valleys and tiny towns.
Twenty-five or thirty miles from the Flight 93 Memorial, we exited the Turnpike. There at the corner we passed a church with a large mounted blue mailbox and a sign that read LETTERS TO GOD.
"What an interesting idea," I thought. We wondered out loud, "Did the people on Flight 93 know they faced certain death? Do their spirits fill this surrounding countryside?"

A white marble slab memorializes each of the 40 passengers
and crew members who died on Flight 93.

At 2,906 feet in the Allegheny Mountains, the wind picked up and fog clung to the hilltops.
"Brrrrr," said Andy, as I stepped out of the car for a picture.
"Brrrrrrr," I echoed. It couldn't have been warmer than the low 50's with a stiff breeze.
Huge white wind turbines graced the hilltops, all turning, turning. "This is a different climate zone," said Andy. Autumn tinged the trees and stalks of goldenrod colored the fields. Here in the old coal mining area, the rolling grass-covered hills indicate years of denuding from strip mining. The past whispers and God speaks.
Cars from many states lined the Flight 93 Memorial parking lot at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday near Shanksville, Pennsylvania: Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Missouri, New Mexico. Solemn visitors, shivering from the foggy chill and the spine-tingling emotion, shook their heads at the loss and the courage.

Tokens mark the slabs for each of the heroic Americans who
died in the Pennsylvania countryside.

"The architect wants this place to be one of renewal," I read. "It is a living memorial." That accounted for the 13,000 seedling trees that line the drive, all species native to Pennsylvania, that will offer rejuvenation to wildlife as the Memorial reclaims the land. "A common field one day; a field of honor forever" reads the plaque. Elegant and moving in its simplicity, the Memorial honors the 33 passengers and seven crew members who collectively voted to attack four al Qaeda terrorist hijackers to prevent Flight 93, a United Airlines Boeing 757 jet bound from Newark, New Jersey to San Francisco, California, from targeting Washington, D.C.  Their 37 phone calls by 13 people had informed them of the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks. Crashing at 10:03 a.m. on September 11, 2001, in a Somerset County field near a grove of hemlock trees, the plane hit the ground at 563 miles per hour. Although they never regained control, the unarmed passengers and crew, probably moments away from overpowering the hijackers, saved hundreds of lives in D.C., our seat of government. The plane was only 18 minutes from the Capitol.
My questions had been answered.
Much remains to be completed on the Memorial after 11 years, but the wide open fields of nodding wildflowers and the thousands of young seedlings that surround the granite plaza and walkway offer a fitting tribute to the courage and honor of 40 unselfish Americans who gave their lives to preserve our democracy.
The owner and operator of Georgetown Winery invited us to pour our own samples of seven varieties for 25 cents a sample. We bought a bottle, chatted about world events and made friends with the scraggly cat who stretched out on the table to be scratched. Life seemed so fragile and so worthwhile.
At Raven's Glenn Winery, Kaelynn served us a flight of semi-sweet wines. There wasn't a one of the nine that we didn't like.  With a temporary lull in the stream of visitors, we were able to chat and share stories about education and life in general. Wine has a way of doing that.

This 91-year old barn houses Yellow Butterfly Vineyards.

At wineries the company is always delightful. JoAnn served us samples at Yellow Butterfly Vineyards. A dalmatian joined us at the tasting bar, paws on the counter as he begged for cheese. JoAnn explained that it took the owner 18 months to rebuild the 91-year old barn.  The woodwork was magnificent, and the wine, sweet.
The Inn at Rainbow Hills Winery was a busy place up a gravel road--a retreat in the rolling tree-covered back country of central Ohio. We sampled, bought a bottle and left... tired after a lovely day, a day with spirits blowin' in the wind.