Charlie and A Game of Cricket.

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There is many-a-convo one can hear while touring the Biltmore. I mean, it’s a great place for family and friends but sometimes you’ll overhear certain things from other visitors that stick in your mind just because they’re so prominent: like one older lady that seemed to proclaim to the entire courtyard “Well I haven’t been on my feet this much since nineteen-eighty-five!” Or the small child that lost his mind when news was broken to him that the lions by the front door didn’t come alive at night (a claim I can neither prove nor disprove myself).

For the love of trees.

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At the risk of sounding immodest, I hike a lot.

Like, a lot. I love it. I think about trails constantly. At this moment, I’m thinking about my next outing. While you’re reading this, I’m probably out there, somewhere, amongst mountains and trees and rocks and wild things. Maybe even a coastline. It’s exhilarating and frightening and calming and exciting all at once.

To Canada.

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First, I love the East Coast, where I’m currently living.

I’m within a good driving distance from many state parks, a short road trip away from the Blue Ridge Parkway, and it doesn’t take long to drive to my favorite coffee shop this side of the Mississippi (Land of Thousand Hills, you know). I do still plan to move to Asheville after graduation and try to work for the Biltmore Estate. I love the rolling hills and the modest mountains and the wonderful vegetation that grows over here.

But oh did the West Coast challenge that love.