Why You Should Visit Upstate New York...or any Countryside for that Matter

The highlight of my childhood summers was when my mom, sisters, and I would pile in the car and make the eight hour drive to Boston, New York, to visit Gramma and Grandpa. I would always be so excited for the car ride and I would want to leave as early as possible; I suppose my excitement for my escape to the countryside blurred out the memory that eight hours is an extremely long time to sit in a car, no matter how early you leave! Katherine and I filled the time by planning skits to perform for our favorite audience upon our arrival--I even recall a tiff or two over who would use Grandpa's cane as their microphone. No doubt the infamous phrase "are we there yet?!?" spewed from our mouths many a time--our poor mother!--but once we reached Genesee Road, we knew we were getting close. If we were lucky, Mom would speed over the rolling hills of the road so we could get butterflies in our tummies. Eventually we made it to Back Creek Road, and arrived at the cozy one-story house Grandpa designed and built with his own two hands.

Their estate was magic. The smell: fresh, thick, grass, pine, and rose. There was no internet and they had cable only so they could watch CNN--which to the eight-year-old me was worse than no TV at all--so us girlies found better ways to amuse ourselves.  We often made the short walk down to the creek, where we loved to splash around in the summertime; if we made it to the other side, a treasure of fresh clay awaited us. I learned to drive on Grandpa's John Deer tractor, which I would race across the luscious green lawn, much to Gramma's worry and dismay. Gramma always had tasty treats for us to eat--chocolate chip cookies, sweet rolls, hello dollies, apple pie--you name it, she'd bake it. In the evening we watched the deer cross the lawn on their way to the creek for a nightcap. And of course there was plenty a game of Pinochle, the most amazing card game ever.

Aunt Judy lived roughly twenty minutes down the road, so obvi we saw her a lot too. We always passed my favorite barn en route--a red building with a hodge-podge shackled roof. Thinking back on it, the roof was probably mix-matched because the farmer slapped on any shingle he had, unable to afford a uniform roof. After all, this was not a super wealthy area, but one of modesty and simplicity. But to me, the imperfection of the barn made it the best barn ever.  

At Aunt Judy's we played with her dog Daisy, ate more delicious home cooked food, and of course played even more Pinochle. Aunt Judy's 4th of July family picnics were one of my favorite things--burgers off the grill, fresh corn on the cob, and a bunch of my mom's crazy old Polish cousins mingling and reminiscing.

We almost always went fruit picking at least once during our visit, which I loved. Depending on our mood, we would go strawberry, blueberry, or cherry picking. It was such a novelty to me--picking the fruit yourself for the pie you were going to make that night. And I'll never forget how thrilled Gramma--a farmer's wife--always was to be out in the fields picking fruit. Honestly, few things taste as delicious as a ripe cherry five seconds after it's been plucked from the tree.

So find a way to escape to the countryside, wherever you may be. It just might be the most therapeutic experience you have.  The countryside is humble, lush, and beautiful. Goodness knows I miss it.