Jonas Ridge & Eeseola Lodge

The lightly graveled road curled its way into town, its dusty brown hue in hideous contrast to the living green of the mountains surrounding it. The grass was greener, it seemed, more radiant, more vibrant, seemingly, from the moment one past the sign that hung by the road that said, “Welcome to Jonas Ridge,”. Busy vacationers hurried from one place to another, horses filled the roadway, with the occasional car put-putting around. If it were not for the ugly sound of those damned engines, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine the life of the town just 30 years before. Shops, shops, and more shops. Trinketeers flaunting their work, tinkerers peddling their toys, folk promising the Yanks a fantastic highland adventure … hucksters one and all. The promise of something unusual, unfamiliar, and fanciful.
Welcome to Jonas Ridge.
Just down Lynville avenue, the view swelled to something altogether lovely. The roadway gave away to great stretches of near holy grass, perfectly manicured, cornered and fenced in by luscious trees on all sides. The meadows melted away at the footsteps of glorious, rolling, and wobbled mountains like the snow is gently whispered to by the face of the sun until it is all but gone. Amid the meadows sat the Eeseloa Lodge, the famed resort for the weary traveler, sightseer, and family on holiday. Its unusual curved ridge line with bent and twisted eaves, rough hewn bark shingles, and oddly modern windows trimmed in crimson blessed the landscape with a fanciful and dream-like glow. Balconies were held up by natural grey logs with banisters fashioned from gnarled branches. The foundation was made of stacked river stone as were the chimneys, their unique whitewashed, grey, and brown colors mixing to make a pleasant pallet.