My Place

Nothing but the sound of the wind through the trees and the jingling of the dogs' tags as they run ahead of me.

This is My Place.

Last August, I realized that after years of complaining about living on Route 9 and not being able to step out of my house and talk a (safe) walk, I had the best walking place available- the stone quarry behind my house.

There are many levels to the quarry and it's a steep climb. I had to work myself up to the peak- every day I went a little further. Once I got there, I never looked back.

Well, I did- at the view. Breathtaking. It took me a few times of scanning the horizon to discern that, yes, indeed, that was Mt. Greylock I could see. The same mountain I lived next to for four years in college!

I have just recently been able to go on my quarry walks with the dogs again. The long, cold winter is finally coming to a close, and with the snow melting, I have access once again.

Up in that quarry? I can't get enough of the quiet. The sounds of nature changing from season to season. Peace. No matter what mood I am when I leave the house, this place has the ability to mellow me out and recharge me.

I can't help but feel a connection to my ancestors when I'm up there. I am the 6th generation of my family to live on this land. A quote in the March / April 2013 edition of Yankee magazine really resonated with me this week:

"In New England- a region so compact, so woven with landscape and history and ancestry and tradition- the sense of place burrows more deeply than anywhere else."

Yes, it does. I am so very thankful for My Place.