There's no place like home...

Welp, I'm chillin' at the old homestead in New York. It's just as I left it 11 years ago. Quite, simple, idyllic, tranquil, changeless. Other than some trees that are a little bigger, and some barn boards that are in need of some fresh is one place that seems to be frozen in time. That's why I love my old home. It's sits outside of time in some ways.

The blueberry bushes are packed with fresh produce, the garden is vibrant green and jammed with life, the old 8-end Ford tractor is always up for a ride through the woods with the girls, the wood is piled and waiting to be split and stacked, the basketball hoop is tightly fasted to the end of the barn sitting still and expectant, the apple tree limps are hanging heavy with green, tart fruit, the concord grapes are soaking up the sunrays, the christmas tree grove is tucked back in the left corner of the back field, the blackberries are just changing color turning into a deep magical purple, the perennial beds are full of flowers attracting hummingbirds and bees, the barns still put off a musty aroma of old wood, dust and farm equipment, the swingset is poised for the grandchildren, the trees are recovering from an ice storm a few years back quite nicely, the neighbors wave from across the way welcoming home the prodical son, the muck fields that surround my house are teeming with onions at full maturity, the breeze off of Lake Ontario is cool and smells like seaweed, the stones still skip gracefully atop the glassy surface along the shore, the seafood of Rudy's Restaurant is still expensive and tasty as ever, the seagulls are still rats with wings, I even like the smell of fish that every now and again fills my nostrils with the aroma of my past...I could go on and on.

My house is as I left it. Bedrooms still hold old pictures, old blankets, old trinkets and trophies, old baseball cards and letters. The house has a smell to it that relaxes me. I even sleep better at home for some reason...I think my soul and body sink into a psuedo-coma. I ate some cheese that we always bought from the Ontario Orchards fruit stand...Sharp Cheddar cut from a block of's delicious. My mom cooked a Turkey last night for Taylor's was out of this world. It was embellished with sweet corn and banana bread. My Grandpa (Leto in Spanish) sat at the table with us and shared some stories from the early 30's. He can't see or hear very well, but what do expect for your mid-90's. The pictures of him around the house when he was younger look just like me...I even see it. It's amazing to still have him around...sometimes I just find myself watching him wondering what it must have been like to be alive in 1915. What changes his life has witnessed.

Dad and I watched some Yankee baseball (an old tradition)...they won 5-4. It was a great game. We were listening to part of the game on 570 WSYR AM radio on the way home from the lake. Just the sound of AM radio was a transport back to my childhood. I remember that sound at night when I was laying in bed and dad was listening to Syracuse basketball or Yankee baseball. It's an awesome sound really.

In one day I feel like I've already experienced so much...but we have 6 days left. And I'm going to drink deep of each one of them.


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