MY FAMILY'S FARM.

I grew up on a 58 acre farm in upstate New York.  It has been in my family for over 100 years and was purchased by my grandfather from his parents who were from Poland, and then eventually it was inherited by my dad.  I had the pleasure of experiencing a life with cows and chickens and roosters and a pony and many cats and dogs and picking peas and potatoes for the next day's farmers market. Come late fall and early winter it was a snowy wonderland where you could sled down big hills and hike around through the woods, and then the flowers of spring would turn into a hot and hazy summer, with nights under the stars and nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and a gentle breeze blowing the scent of fresh cut hay.  My grandmother made her own cheese and butter from the milk from our cows.  We ate our own meat (although I hated it, even at the time--feeling the sadness of knowing the fate of the cows) and eggs and vegetables and fruits and even chestnuts.  There is a fruit tree orchard and rows and rows of vegetables and ornamental, cutting flowers.  My dad is a talented gardener and I have inherited from him the excitement of looking at seed catalogs and watching a tiny plant grow into something that is not only aesthetically pleasing but nourishing.  I learned from my mom how to cook from what you've grown and preserve fresh fruits and vegetables to have throughout the year.  My parents still live there and one of my siblings has built on the property and another lives in an apartment within the large farmhouse.  The land is beautiful and magical and brings back so many memories when I visit.  It has quite a history, and really, I should take the time to write down some of my parents stories.  I had a very, very nice visit last week--a chance to reconnect with family and friends and relax and eat good food and take it all in.  Here are some photos from my trip...