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When you come back, you snap into that strange nostalgia.”And the church!There are nuns here at Sacred Heart Chapel who taught Swift in kindergarten. It’s the morning of the wedding, and I am riding in an SUV with Swift and her mother, Andrea.No, that maid of honor, currently fussing over and straightening out the train of the bride’s gown, is Taylor—Scott and Andrea Swift’s older kid, Austin’s big sister, who grew up barely a five-minute drive away and used to go for ice cream at the Friendly’s down the street. “She really wanted me to be a horseback rider, and I did it competitively until I worked up the nerve at age twelve to tell her I didn’t really love it like she loved it.“I just wanted to make music and do theater,” she says.To be clear: I’m not saying the people in this church aren’t aware that Scott and Andrea’s kid turned into, you know, —it’s hilarious to watch the flower girls try to keep it together, and the nuns seem pretty jazzed, too—but that’s not the story today. And the only evidence that the maid of honor is you-know-who is the paparazzi who have gathered at the bottom of the hill, hoping to snag a photo with their long lenses. A treasured footnote to the Taylor Swift backstory is that she spent much of her childhood being raised at, of all places, a Christmas-tree nursery called Pine Ridge Farm. “So I’ve been a big disappointment.”“I’ve gotten over the bitterness, finally,” Andrea says sarcastically.Taylor notices a man stepping into his car in the driveway. The man immediately gives what can only be described as a Holy crap–it’s–Taylor Swift look. He invites us to have a look around, and we all pile out.“This must really bring back some memories,” Dave says.“Yeah, this is crazy,” Taylor says.We pull up alongside, and Andrea rolls down her window. She surveys the fields behind the driveway, which include a small grove of pine trees her parents once planted.That’s an option, too.”But probably not for the moment.“I would really like to take a little time to learn things,” Swift says.
To them, Swift is not the superstar who, a handful of days ago, stood on a stage in Los Angeles and accepted a Grammy Award for Album of the Year, the first woman to win that prize twice. This area around Reading and its adjacent town, Wyomissing, is rich with pastoral roads marked by open fields and stone homes, and the kind of rolling countryside that makes you want to saddle up and ride a horse—which Swift did as a child.“That was kind of my mom’s thing,” Taylor says.
“I have lots of short-term goals.”“To be able to save somebody if they’re drowning,” she says. “So CPR, all the various kinds of chest compressions.
People tell you little tips, but that’s different from actually taking a class and getting certified.”“No.
The split-rail fence that’s still standing—Scott and Andrea built that themselves. Just a few years back, Swift was so excited about relocating to New York City—it was the creative basis for —but when she’s in the city now, within a couple of days, there is a circus of photographers outside her apartment building.“But that kind of happens everywhere,” she says.
Scott, a stockbroker, actually purchased and lived on the property before he’d met Andrea; on their first date, she came to a party he hosted in the farmhouse. “I always thought you might want to stop by,” she says. As we step into the cozy two-floor home, Taylor takes out her phone and starts filming. She actually owns the house with her husband and lives nearby. The wedding ceremony has finished—Britany and Ben made it official to applause—and Swift and I have huddled downstairs at the church during a break before the reception.
I should probably know how to do that.“I do things like this,” Swift says.