Back in 1996, when Earl and I were dating and hadn’t moved in together yet, I drove him down this road and showed him a house that I really liked. It was a fairly simple house that had been built in the 20th century. It was set back from the road about 100 feet. The house, though simple in design, still had a fairly sprawling feel to it as it had been added on to each end over the years. Tennis courts were on the lot adjacent to the house and landscaping and the like indicated that it was all one property.
The property was settled on a road across from large, open cornfields, which were protected from the road by a row of large maple trees. It was such a beautiful, peaceful setting for me, and I could imagine looking out the picture window on the front of the house, through the maples, across the field and onto the hill that was off in the distance; the last hill between the Adirondacks and the Mohawk Valley.
The house in question was for sale but was way out of our price range at the time. Earl and I were just talking about living together in the apartment he was living in at the time, a house would be further down our timeline together. But there was something about that house and that road. I just loved it. So peaceful.
The road in question, at least the portion between two parallel, fairly-main roads, is home to a couple of stone farmhouses, an Amish family in a very simple, white house and a few newer houses. Each lot is at least a couple of acres. The southern side of the road, aside from one of the farms with a stone farmhouse, is all working farmland. It looks like corn was the crop of choice this year. The entire portion of this road is flanked by maple trees.
During my bike ride today I found my way over to this road simply because I still have a certain fondness for it. It is paralleled to its north by a river, which runs behind the house I loved back in 1996. I stopped for a moment to take the photo at the beginning of this entry and after hearing the fake shutter sound from my iPhone, I just paused and listened to the stillness. I could hear birds doing their thing in the field. The hum of farm machinery was faint but still indicative of work being done on a Saturday morning. And I could hear the river doing its thing behind the houses it passed by. Here and there I could hear leaves dropping as they’re apt to do this time of year. The maples aren’t in their fiery glory yet; the peak leaf-peeping weekend is still a couple of weeks away in these parts, but I still felt that that road was still an ideal for me.
The house in question has long been sold and its owners do a fantastic job of taking care of it. I smiled as I rode by and continued along my bike ride.