Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Tag: nature writing

  • Cozy Corners, Tent Retreats, and Hammock Escapes- Perfect Places for Poetry

    Cozy Corners, Tent Retreats, and Hammock Escapes- Perfect Places for Poetry

    You get to build your perfect space for reading and writing. What’s it like?

    Break The Rules

    Everyone has a dream space that makes writing or reading feel effortless, immersive, like the world slows down just for your thoughts. I don’t just have one perfect idea…

    I’ve got a few, each with its own vibe and rhythm. I’ve planned them with details that spark comfort, focus, and a little luxury for the senses.

    The Ultimate Cozy Beanbag Retreat

    Imagine a beanbag chair so big it could swallow me, my dog, and still leave space to sprawl. I’d choose a Luvsack-style one, extra soft and indulgent, it probably has a pocket. Or a few even.

    Next to it, a small stand holding water, hot tea, and something caffeinated… because balance, obviously. Candles flicker around the room, scents like warm vanilla and honey. Or a seasonal smell. I do not want overwhelming, just sweet or soft scents. Plushy arm chairs and blankets cover empty spaces, squishy stuffed animals as well… perfect for sinking in.

    Somewhere, a Bluetooth speaker plays string instrumentals, Lindsey Stirling, maybe, or someone in the same genre.

    A mini-fridge hums quietly in the corner, a small cabinet of snacks within reach… a cocoon of comfort designed for hours of uninterrupted creation with seating options for collaboration or body doubling solo projects with others.

    My Nomadic Tent Writing Retreat

    Then there’s freedom. A 660-pound capacity tent on stilts, my partner’s anniversary gift to me that can go anywhere.

    Well anywhere… flat. In the woods, near a lake, a field, in the backyard, anywhere that lets me exist for a few days at least. Inside, it’s just me, my thoughts, a sleeping mat, and comfort items . Oh luna too

    A portable writer’s retreat where I can walk, write, think, and reset. The tent moves with me, flexible as my inspiration, bridging home comforts with the wild serenity of outdoors.

    I want to hear your version… if you could design your perfect reading or writing space without limits, what would it include? Odd little details, big indulgences, scents, sounds anything else? Tell me everything you would do in the comments.

    Hammock Spaces

    Then last but not least simplicity and air. Anywhere a hammock can be strung, I can write or read as long as the weather allows, noise levels permitting but that goes for the tent too.

    A Gentle sway, sunlight through leaves, a breeze against the skin, and the hum of quiet life outside… these moments are delicate, fleeting, perfect for capturing thoughts that demand stillness and clarity.

    These spaces are my dream perfect sanctuaries. I designed for focus, creativity, and comfort. I enjoy quiet, nature, comfort, softness, and subtle things.

    Share this post with someone who lives for writing or reading in immersive spaces, someone who’d love to dream up their own retreat… let’s plant seeds of creativity to bloom.

    If things like honest work, real people, unfiltered language, and rough-edged art explain you or what you create…

    Submit to the next Poeaxtry Prism issue by form or email Poeaxtryspoetryprism@gmail.com

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  • Quick Pit Stop at CVNP- A December Glimpse at Brandywine Falls

    Quick Pit Stop at CVNP- A December Glimpse at Brandywine Falls

    The Stop-On-a-Whim

    I had the day off. A buddy and I were driving through the Cleveland area to pickup her kid… no big plan, just the open road. Then inspiration struck: swing by Brandywine Falls. Duh

    Brandywine falls in the summer CVNP
    Brandywine falls view from above

    I’ve only seen it one other time — during a parched summer when the falls were more whisper than roar, barely a bit more than a modest trickle through the gorge. That day felt almost ghostly. But on Friday, December 19 2025… things looked very different.

    Straight on view of Brandwine falls wintertime.
    Brandywine falls December.

    Because of recent snowfalls, the water was high and alive, rushing over the ledge with a force that made the air taste cold and feel charged. The falls were full, the gorge echoing with the crash of water, the kind of sight that silences you for just long enough.

    Why Brandywine Falls Hits Different

    Brandywine Falls drops about 60 feet, that makes it the tallest and most impressive accessible waterfall in the park.  Geologically it’s classic: a hard cap of ancient Berea Sandstone formed roughly 320 million years ago. This overlies softer layers of Bedford Shale and Cleveland Shale, formed from 350 to 400 million years ago sediments. Water erodes the shale faster, undercutting the sandstone which eventually breaks off . Thus creating and reshaping the gorge over millennia.  In dryer seasons the falls tend toward a graceful, slender, almost ghostlike.  But when precipitation or snow-melt fills the creek as it had before our visit, the falls swell. The volume surges, the drop becomes a roar, and the gorge lives and breathes again.  For early settlers the falls weren’t just pretty, they were power. Starting around 1814, a sawmill built at the top of the falls by pioneer George Wallace. Who used the rushing water to cut lumber. Over the next decade a small industrial settlement grew around it, with gristmills, wool mills and even a distillery.  Today you reach the falls by a brief walk from a parking lot. Then by using a boardwalk and stairs lead you to upper and lower viewing decks. For a spontaneous, quick-hit nature fix it’s perfect. 

    What It Felt Like This Time

    This trip felt like the falls remembered what it meant to be alive. That snow before our visit, frozen ground underfoot, everything conspired to give Brandywine a roar. The water hammered the ledge, threw spray outward, carved the air. The usual quiet winter slush was gone. Instead the gorge pulsed.

    Walking the boardwalk felt sacred everything slick and cold, the wood mutes under crocs, water humming below, the gorge walls rising steep and ancient on either side. I looked down at the pool where water crashed, looking darker and deeper than in any dry-season visit.

    For a brief second I remembered my first visit: quiet, soft, almost disappointed. This was its other face. Raw, untamed, majestic. A reminder that even small-town waterfalls can show you something wild if you catch them at the right moment.

    Why It Matters; For Hikers, Writers, Dreamers

    Brandywine Falls isn’t just a “quick stop” waterfall. It’s a dynamic landscape that changes with seasons, storms, snow. It whispers history through rock layers millions of years old, human history etched in 19th-century mill stones, and still today it offers a bridge between calm and chaos… depending on when you show up.

    If you wander there mid-winter or after heavy snow or rainfalls, expect power. Expect water roaring. Expect solitude and wildness, even if you’re a two-hour detour.

    If you go again, listen: to water, to rock, to history.

    Brandywine falls December 2025 in the distance fresh snowfall
    The majestic Brandywine of CVNP

    Links Brandywine the 1st time the plan

  • Third Time’s the Charm at Sylvania Rock Park: Dolostone Finds and a Climb to the Top

    Third Time’s the Charm at Sylvania Rock Park: Dolostone Finds and a Climb to the Top

    Third Time’s the Charm at Sylvania Rock Park

    A Familiar Stop with New Surprises:

    This was my third visit to Sylvania Rock Park since summer began. Yet, this one wasn’t planned for fossils like the previous two trips. On the way back from Michigan, we decided to stretch our legs and wander the quarry loop. I’d been here before (as noted) and my garage shop shelves are already full of enough fossils to tell those stories. This trip wasn’t about searching. It was about being out there again, surrounded by the sound of gravel underfoot and the steady hum of October wind. It was also about sharing the quarry and the experience with others.

    The Quarry Trail:

    The quarry trail still winds around that broad, open heart of the park. With stone ledges, soft forest edges, and a quiet reminder that this whole place was carved by work. Many many years before it was reclaimed by stillness. The light filtered just right that afternoon, the kind that makes you look down and notice every sparkle.

    That’s when it happened. A glint off a rock caught my eye. Not a fossil this time. This was something smoother, paler. Dolostone. The sunlight hit one piece just right, and before long, we had pockets full of them. It wasn’t a hunt; it was a stumble into beauty. Dolostone, also known as dolomite, has this quiet sheen to it, like limestone that learned how to catch light instead of reflect it. Some were pretty flashy, and they felt like a reward.

    The Climb

    At the park’s entrance, there are two man-made climbing boulders. You know the multi-sided, textured, meant for anyone brave enough to try. Did I mention no tether? We decided to test ourselves, each of us picking a spot to climb. Out of the four of us, I was the only one who made it all the way to the top. It wasn’t about proving anything, but standing there heart racing a little… I couldn’t help but grin. That small victory felt earned, like the kind of win that sneaks up on you the same way those dolostones did.

    Sometimes the Best Finds Aren’t Searched For:

    That’s what this trip was. No plan, no checklist. Just a stop on the way home that turned into a pocket full of stones and a memory worth keeping. Sylvania Rock Park keeps surprising me. And even after three visits, there’s always something different waiting, if you slow down enough to see it.

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