- Challenge your body, but don’t forget to respect it.
- Know your limits.
- Listen to that voice in your head.
- Visit new places.
- Eat good food.
- Be kind.
- Love with your whole heart.
- Cultivate and nurture friendships.
- Get outside – fresh air cures so much of what ails us.
- Be honest even when it hurts.
- Keep moving.
- Teach your children coping skills.
- Spoil your dog.
- Speak your mind.
- Pay your bills.
- Get involved.
- Maintain your car.
- Keep excitement in your life.
- Be grateful.
Friday nights can be hard, especially at the beginning of a new school year. While I would have been very happy to make it a movie night at home with my youngest son, I was too interested to check out the brand new Pony Barn and June Farms to stay at home. So, what’s a girl to do? Get dressed, swipe on some of that new Poppy lipstick you just bought from Origins and get to the farm.
June Farms is a quick 15 minute drive from Albany – which is remarkable because it feels very much like it’s in the middle of nowhere. We drove, but I know some folks who Ubered out of Troy for less than $15, not a bad idea if you want to indulge in multiple tasty cocktails. There are a couple of turns off of Route 43 to reach the farm’s winding driveway, but the directions were easy enough and the drive, even after dark, was pretty.
We parked and made our way inside the beautiful and newly built barn, passing the pizza oven on our way. The interior smells like sawdust and fresh air – a combination of odors I’ve never before encountered in a barn or a bar, for that matter. The rustically beautiful bar to the left beckons and holds a nicely curated selection of liquor, including many local and other New York State products. The lighting is flattering and the numerous seating areas invite guests to indulge in conversations, perhaps even with a side of tasteful making out. A patio promises to be the ideal spot to catch a full moon view and the spacious upstairs loft is finished, yet unfurnished, leaving lots of opportunity for eventual renters of the space to use the area in a manner that makes sense for their event.
Event? Yes, the entire barn, as well as overnight accommodations, are available for rent. I can see this property as the perfect location for all sorts of parties, ceremonies and getaways. Check out their website for more info and to see photos of all June Farms has to offer. I’ve got a video that I can’t embed here, but check out my Instagram post to get a sense of the interior of the bar.
As for the pigs mentioned in the title – they were the genuine article, not your usual bar animals. We took a quad ride out to the pig barn and were completely taken by the half dozen swine we caught in the middle of their night’s slumber. They were beautiful, not smelly in the slightest and adorable with their snoring. I can’t wait to go back to meet the ducks, chickens, cows and horses and to explore more of the trails in daylight. What a great new spot for daytime and evening fun. Well done, Matt Baumgartner. This place is special.
I’m feeling reflective as I approach another birthday celebration. You know, considering what I’ve learned, loved and lost in this latest trip around the sun. There’s a lot to think about, but I feel pretty satisfied with the overall picture from my 50th year. There are moments I’d consider doing over and some things I wish I saw more clearly sooner, but it’s been a year well lived. That, to me, is both the goal and the reward. I am a very fortunate person.
I’ve collected experiences – visits in cities near and far, beaches along the Atlantic Coast, runs along lakes and rivers. Twice, I flew solo to spend long weekends in remarkably different, yet equally appealing, cities and I’m hungry to see more new places. I’m proud of my sense of adventure and confidence in negotiating travel alone. I can’t wait to live life.
“Work at being kind” is my takeaway for the year. Loving isn’t always easy; it can hurt and doesn’t always feel worth the resources it consumes. I’ve learned, though, that it always feel better to give than to receive, and love is no different really. My well isn’t bottomless, but it does refill.
My biggest personal loss this year was the death of my uncle. He was such a great traveler, a man passionately in love with his wife, a kind human being. He is missed, yet remains an inspiration and a reminder that true love is possible and that it is wrong to settle for anything less.
One of my favorite things about our most recent visit to the Cape was the fact that Jeter could come along. Actually, it was one of the criteria, along with an outdoor shower, that I considered to be a requirement when we were searching for a rental for the week. Hey, even a dog needs a change of scenery on occasion.
Bringing Jeter along was not without complication. Originally I thought I might snag the little cabin that was poised on a hill next to the main house, as my own for the week. Once I toured the space I knew it would be better suited to the preteens since the bed was up a ladder in a loft area. Jeter doesn’t do ladders, but he does like to sleep with me, so I picked a bedroom in the cottage instead.
We also had a nocturnal visit from the biggest damn raccoon I’ve ever seen. (S)he was attracted to Jeter’s airtight food bin and bowls, which I had set up on the screened in porch. It took a couple of days before the bandit made its move, but one night we were woken up by something really loud. Turns out the raccoon was attempting a break in – directly through the screen. By the time we figured out what was going on there was a decent sized hole in the screen directly above Jeter’s feeding station. Live and learn.
It isn’t always fun having a dog on vacation. I found that Jeter was really annoying at the ocean when we were with our entire gang of kids and adults. He just wanted to be a part of everything which meant sand everywhere, plaintive and relentless barking and generally being an annoyance. When I took him solo, though, he was fantastic. He settled in and was completely chill. I believe I even caught a cat nap with my dog snuggled next to me. He was a little tired, too, from all of the swimming he did.
Good walks, good swims, good sleeps, good dog.
The sky was cloudless, the bluest of blues and, in the days following Tuesday, September 11, 2001, silent as if it too were in shock from what it had witnessed.
The highways were orderly as generators were pulled behind tractor trailers headed south to provide light for those searching for survivors.
Drivers were patient and kind, waving one another thoughtfully into the flow of traffic.
My oldest son asked why the buildings kept falling down and I had no words to explain how our world could be filled with so much intolerance and hatred.
Our country, out of the ashes of tragedy, became the finest version of it that I’ve ever witnessed.
It will always be, for me, the divider between before and after.
I’m back from vacation and bracing myself for the return to school and all the activity that entails. It’s almost enough to make me console myself with a glass of wine or a last of the summer margarita, except, I’m really tired of drinking. I seriously don’t know how people drink every day or even just multiple times a week. It is just not my thing.
There were 3 adults in our beach house and I brought 2 bottles of rosé, a bottle of white, 2 bottles of red and an additional magnum of red. There was also a honking big bottle of tequila, some gin and a little vodka in the mix. Is that excessive for a week? Before you answer, let me tell you what I brought back home – the magnum, 1 bottle of white, 1 bottle of rosé and a half bottle of red that I just couldn’t part with. It was a Turley! The vodka went quickly in about 4 Moscow Mules, I don’t drink gin and there was 2/3 of the tequila left. Now – do you think that is a lot of booze consumed?
While you consider that question, let me tell you about my drive home from the Cape. First, you should know that I despise driving on the Mass Pike. I may be exaggerating but, I swear, every single time I drive on the damn Pike it rains – and I hate driving in the rain. The only thing I hate more than driving in the rain, is driving in the dark in the rain. Until last Sunday, that is.
During our vacation in Wellfleet my car started acting up, stalling at weird random times. It happened three times over a couple of days with no real pattern. Each time, I coasted to the shoulder, put the car in park and then restarted it with no real issues. I attempted to get it into a local garage, but was thwarted by the holiday weekend. After talking to my mechanic in Albany, who suspected a problem with the fuel thingamabob, I felt prepared to attempt the trip home – or so I thought.
The drive home was hellacious. It rained, naturally, and there was moderate traffic. My sweet Volvo crapped out three times over the course of 260 miles, including once on a bridge. I was reasonably certain that the car would restart, but those few minutes on the side of the road were incredibly stressful. Cars were traveling so fast, visibility was so poor and I was afraid that we would be rear ended. By the time I made it home my hands hurt from clenching the steering wheel. It was all I could to do to unpack the car and climb into the tub. With a glass of wine.
*No, not at the same time. I don’t do that.
You quickly pull on clothes, pausing to brush teeth, and grab your camera and dog and get outside. You make your way down the stone steps to the dock and the water and, if you’re lucky, your Labrador actually obeys when you ask him to please not jump into the pond, thus allowing you to avoid having to deal with a wet dog first thing in the morning. The birds chirp and the fish in the pond jump and the sky is lit up like a popsicle and you know it’s going to be a good day.
When the most intense colors of the sunrise fade (so quickly!), you take a little walk before wandering back to the house which is home for the week, taking in the fact that your youngest is now old enough to sleep in the separate cabin without the
annoyance presence of any grown ups. You smile when you note that the “big” boys slept in their cabin sans adults but avec, it seems, every single light on.
Then, it’s to the screened-in porch, with a scarf to keep the crisp morning air at bay, to watch and listen to the birds enjoy their breakfast. Breakfast…time to make pancakes. Hello, Tuesday.