Adirondack Trip, Part 3

As our plane descended into Chicago our pilot happily informed us that it was eighty-two degrees on the ground. Eighty-two? The temperature in Albany upon departure had been in the sixties, which was about the norm for our trip. But just let chilly temperatures stop a child with access to water from swimming.


One of my favorite things about making this trip is the house. Not really the house itself, really, though of course it is lovely, but the memories it contains. When I'm there it almost makes me feel close to Grandmommy, my mom's mom, a woman who died mere months before I was born and even though I didn't know her, she's alive in that house. Her pictures are scattered throughout the house along with stacks of letters penned by her own hand. In that house I can almost believe I did know her, along with scores of other relatives who have since passed.

Because of that lolling about the house and grounds is a favorite activity. Whether it's doing housework, knitting or reading a book, quiet time is all the more special when we're at Fish House, the nickname we've given the house, than almost anywhere else.


And now we're home. But on this foggy, gloomy Wisconsin day I'm still there. I can almost imagine sitting on the front steps...