Have you every come across a pair of tall boots or a ceramic vase or a black and white print that you just had to own? Or, in Nick’s case, a cutting board or a corduroy jacket or a workbench?
Well, most recently, we found a piece of furniture that we just couldn’t get off our minds.
We’d been searching for something to store our TV and media equipment in our new living room. My criteria: It had to compliment the red couches and mahogany coffee table we already owned. Nick’s criteria: It had to be sturdy. (I’m not kidding. He spent a lot of time analyzing the craftsmanship and knocking the surfaces of every piece we saw.) Well, the Kavari media console from Crate and Barrel fit the bill.
It was at the very top of our list … until we calculated the shipping costs. C and B charges almost half the cost of the piece to ship it further than 50 miles! We couldn’t justify it, so we continued to look. But nothing compared to the simple rustic nature of the Kavari collection.
I called C and B to ask if we could pick it up at the store nearest us — 200 miles away. They said, yes, we could pick it up at their warehouse. So the next step was to find a vehicle large enough to transport it.
Remember the trees that fell over in my parents’ yard? And totaled my dad’s Passat? Well, Dad recently replaced his beloved car with a Ford F-150 pickup truck. It’s red, and so it was appropriately named “Lil’ Red.” Perfect timing! He measured the bed, and it was just the right size for the media console.
My dear father really loves his daughter and son-in-law because, on Saturday, we drove Lil’ Red from Dover to Baltimore (70 miles) to Duncansville (200 miles) and back to Dover (150 miles). All in the name of home decor! (Nick is still training in New York and so missed out on our little road trip.)
Fortunately it was a beautiful day with no threat of rain, and the piece was snug and safe in the truck bed. Dad and I chatted along routes 83, 70, and 76. We stopped for burgers and fries from Five Guys and snacked on Girl Scout cookies. And, when we were about 10 miles from the exit to my house, I realized … I’d forgotten my house keys! Holy crap. My heart dropped.
I called and texted our property management and, luckily, she was able to meet us within 15 minutes of pulling into the driveway. Crisis averted! I really don’t know what we would have done otherwise.
We unloaded the piece with help from Nick’s cousin, and it’s just perfect.
I can’t wait for Nick to see it when he gets home on Thursday!
Our bedroom is still in a state of disarray. There are a few unpacked boxes of books and purses in one corner and a stack of picture frames in another. There are several lamps on top of the wardrobe and a hodgepodge of candles on a shelf that doesn’t belong. The furniture that felt so large in our old bedroom, now feels lost in this much bigger space.
This furniture set is very special to me. It originally lived in the bedroom of my great grandmother. When she passed away, my mother inherited it. At the time, it was bruised and scratched, and so my dad helped to bring it back to life. We painted it black and white to match the safari theme of my high school bedroom. It followed me to Locust Lane, and now here it is on Noelani Drive.
The bed frame has a very different history. It has no connection to me or to Nick. In fact, Nick rescued it from the trash pile outside of his Hoboken apartment. We cleaned it up and now it looks as good as new. Plus it conveniently matches the black paint and dark wood stain of the other pieces.
And we finally added some color to the room last weekend with the purchase of pillows from Pier 1.
Some day we plan to buy a new suit and move this furniture into the guest bedroom. But not yet.
Now let’s talk about arrangement. Typically I like to see the bed first when I enter a bedroom, but the placement of our windows does not allow for such a set up. This leaves a big blank wall opposite the door. It’s just begging to be filled.
We need a “statement piece.” Colorful art? A collage of photos? A unique piece of furniture? Ideas?
The bedroom feels especially large and empty this week while Nick is in New York training for his new job. I slept alone in a queen size bed for plenty of years — even as a married woman while Nick and I were still living in different states — but I miss his warmth. I miss wedging my cold feet between his calves and settling my back into the curve of his torso.
I’m anxious to turn this space into our oasis. Tell me, what do you love about your bedroom?
Six months ago, today, I said “I promise” and “I do” to the love of my life.
Nick is in New York training for his new job, but he decided to drive home on Friday night. He walked in the door just in time for sausage and lentil soup, red wine, and the Olympics. On Saturday we bought decorative pillows for our bed and picture frames for our walls. Then he assembled his new workbench in the garage while I filled our new hutch in the dining room. We are nesting. And this is exactly where I dreamed of being six months ago.
I love you, Nick. And I love building a home with you. Here’s to many more milestones.
Also: Our love story started in a lab and intensified in a kitchen. Read more.
On Saturday, Nick and I ventured out for our first night in our new town. I can’t say there’s a thriving cultural scene here, but the establishments are quaint and historic and the people are friendly and hardworking. Plus, we have family close by.
Nick’s father grew up in nearby Altoona, and his aunt and uncle planted their own roots there years ago. They are very well connected to the community and invited us to a Wine Dinner at the U.S. Hotel in Hollidaysburg on Saturday night.
So are you ready for a history lesson?
The U.S Hotel sits along the Juniata River on the original 1814 homestead of Adam Holliday. The completion of the turnpike in 1818 made Hollidaysburg a convenient stopping place, and the opening of the Pennsylvania Canal in 1832 made it a desirable location to settle. The new canal allowed Hollidaysburg to connect with Philadelphia and two years later the Allegheny Portage Railroad connected the quaint town to the Great American West.
The Hotel opened in 1835 to accommodate westward travelers. Shippers and traders kept the tavern bustling and the rooms occupied. Unfortunately, Hollidaysburg’s glory days were numbered. Altoona — about 10 miles northwest — became the new hub of transportation in 1854.
The Hotel was destroyed by a fire in 1871 and was reopened by a German immigrant in 1886. A Bavarian brewmaster by trade, Engelbert Gromiller established a brewery next door. The barroom was added in 1905 and still boasts the original hand-carved mahogany bar, stained glass, and one of the last working spittoons in the state.
The Hotel changed hands many times over the years and is now owned by Karen and Jason Yoder. It offers “the best fine dining in the borough.” (AND it hosts Ghost Dinners once a month, complete with an informative session presented by the Allegheny Mountain Ghosthunters.)
I just love to immerse myself in the history of a place, don’t you? It makes for a much more meaningful experience.
Now let’s get back to present day.
As I said, we joined uncle Frank and aunt Mary, cousin Justin and his girlfriend Lindsey, and new friends Nick and Marcy. We mingled and conversed while juggling appetizer plates and glasses of wine. (Has anyone mastered this party trick? If so, please advise.)
The wine was poured from bottles wrapped in brown Kraft paper and tied with twine. When we were seated we found worksheets to record our guesses for variety of wine and region of origin. Now I am by no means a wine connoisseur. I know I prefer red to white and dry to sweet, but I have a difficult time identifying flavors like banana or oak or chocolate.
I swirled, I sniffed, I sipped, but I was uncertain of all of my guesses. Friend Nick, on the other hand, is quite the accomplished taster (and brewer, apparently) and correctly identified the variety AND origin of three of the five wines. My Nick and I have a lot to learn.
Nevertheless, it was a very enjoyable evening, with the highlight being an absolutely delicious and decadent Peanut Butter Creme Brulee. It was so decadent, in fact, that I wasn’t able to finish my serving. But Nick polished off his Ramekin and mine! (It’s a Wiley talent, really — the ability to devour every bite of anything involving chocolate and peanut butter. I’m not kidding — both his uncle and cousin cleaned their dishes, too.)
We look forward to exploring much more of our modest little town!
Appetizer Course with Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand
- Shrimp and Spinach Crepes with Saffron Garlic Sauce
- Artichoke and Cheddar Jack Bruchetta
- Sour Cream and Chive stuffed Tomatoes
- Baked Brie Puffs
Soup Course with Cabernet from California
- Smoked Turkey Vegetable Soup
Salad Course with Chardonnay from California
- Fresh Mixed Greens with Apples, Gorgonzola Cheese, Toasted Pine Nuts, and Dried Cranberries, tossed with Vinaigrette
Entrée Course with Shiraz from Australia
- Grilled Angus Tenderloin topped with Sautéed Crabmeat
- Scallion wrapped Asparagus with Hollandaise Sauce and Bacon
- Chive and Cheddar Jack stuffed Redskin Potatoes
Dessert Course with Riesling from Washington
- Peanut Butter Creme Brulee
I’ve never been a morning person. In high school, I rolled out of bed, jumped in the shower, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed a Pop-Tart on my way out the door and into homeroom. In college, I scheduled my classes after 10am — with the exception of an 8am Psych class during freshmen year, which I only made it to with help from my hallmates.
And for the past five years I’ve worked in an office within three miles of my apartment. I had it down to a science. Alarm rings at 7:40. Hit snooze until 7:49. Hit snooze again until 7:58. Finally get out of bed at 8:00. Shower, dress, dry hair, apply makeup, eat cereal, take coffee to go. I was at my desk by 9:00.
Oh, the glory days have come to an end. I now live roughly 50 miles from my office. Fortunately, it’s a straight shot on I-99 along the ridge of Bald Eagle Mountain. Unfortunately, it can get very windy and snowy along that ridge, as I witnessed on the second half of the first day of my new commute.
Now that I have to spend just under two hours on the road every weekday, I’m more appreciative of my time at home. I’m encouraged to wake up earlier so I can get home earlier. Last week my alarm rang at 6:15 every day, and surprisingly, I only hit snooze one time on one day.
Nick and I sit down to bowls of cereal by 7:15, and I’m on the road with a travel mug of coffee by 7:30. Steve Inskeep and Renee Montagne keep me company in the morning, and the good folks of All Things Considered are with me in the evening.
Because I’m out of bed early, I need to be in bed early. Last week we averaged a 10pm bed time. This was particularly easy because we were without distractions like cable and Internet. This week could be a different story, however. Figure skating! Alpine skiing!
Nick doesn’t start his commute for another three weeks. He will be on the road for at least two hours each day, too. This was the compromise. I could keep the job that I love, and Nick took take the job that he wanted, if we were both willing to drive to get there. We’re making it work.
What do you do to get going in the morning?
I like the sound of that: “All of our belongings are under one roof.” We haven’t been able to say that for … ever. It only took two professional movers and one moving van, one generous father, one U-Haul, and a very determined newly wedded couple. We made it.
Let me share with you some snapshots and stories from the past few days. (All photos were taken with my iPhone, which I am thankful for, since we won’t have Internet access until Friday. This also means we won’t have cable until Friday and are missing the first week of the Olympics. Terrible timing.)
Wednesday: Last Day on Locust Lane
Nick braved Snowmageddon to bring back pad thai for our final night in apartment 3. We will certainly miss Cozy Thai Bistro. We will also miss our proximity to carnitas burritos and margaritas from Mad Mex, gianetto pizza and chicken marsala from Faccia Luna, mango habanero wings and pints of apricot wheat from Otto’s, and coconut chip ice cream from Meyer Dairy.
Thursday: Moving Day 1
The movers arrived just before noon on Thursday. (It took them six hours to drive to Pennsylvania from New Jersey due to snowy road closures — we’re just glad they made it!) Not only were these two professional movers incredibly efficient, they were also quite entertaining. Not to stereotype, but they were so obviously from New Jersey — from their appearance to their dialect to their mannerisms.
While they methodically wrapped, packed, taped, and piled — and told stories about third wives and Italian hoagies — Nick and I sat on an empty bin in the corner, and I snapped photos of the transformation.
They labeled the boxes “KIT stemware, vases” and “LR knicknacks, books” and “HW CLOSET coats, tents” and “MBR shoes, jeans.” My favorite descriptions were “straw hat” and “basketball” and “cuff links.” Then they stacked the boxes from the floor to the ceiling.
I missed the mastery that was the couch wrapping because I had to leave to pick up the keys to our new house. Nick gave me the rundown later — they placed the couches on top of wide, shallow boxes and wrapped the entire pieces in plastic from top to bottom and from left to right. I’m telling you, these guys left nothing untouched.
I met with our realtor in Duncansville at 5pm. I handed a check to her, and she handed the keys to me. It was unfortunate I was alone when I walked into our new place for the first time, but I busied myself until Nick’s arrival. I peeked in every cupboard and every cabinet. I tested each faucet and each toilet. Everything smelled new — the refrigerator, the bathroom, the hall closet.
And I found a basket of “Welcome Home” goodies on our kitchen counter top. There were coffee mugs screen printed with “Parkway Acres,” microwaveable popcorn, and two super sweet cookies.
Nick rang the doorbell about three hours later, and we shared a frozen pizza on the living room floor. We had no knives, so we pulled apart the pieces with our fingers. He piled the extra cheese onto my slices, and I gave the fallen pepperonis to him. That is love.
We slept in our sleeping bags on the floor of our new bedroom that night — fortunately the carpet is much cushier than the one that lined our old place.
Friday: Moving Day 2
Nick’s phone rang at 7:30 on Friday morning — the movers had arrived (early)! They filled our tiled and carpeted floors with fabric mats and cardboard boxes, and they slipped off their sneakers to carry boxes up the stairs. It was much easier to stay out of their way in a townhouse that is at least four times bigger than the apartment was.
No sooner had they finished unloading and wished us luck than we grabbed an overnight bag and headed to my parents’ house. Did I tell you before that my wonderful parents have been storing our wonderful wedding gifts for the past six months? Not to mention a bed, a kitchen table, a desk, and more.
We picked up a U-Haul and, with my dad’s help, loaded the truck just in time to settle in front of the fire to watch the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics.
Saturday: Moving Day 3
Both Nick and I woke bright and early on Saturday — we were so anxious to finish the last lag of our move. We drove the U-Haul 2 1/2 hours back to Duncansville, and while we waited for the rest of our unpacking crew to arrive — Dad, Mom, Laura — we went to Bed Bath & Beyond and Home Depot for a few necessities. We joked that we felt like homeowners, thought we aren’t quite yet.
As Nick and Dad carried boxes from the U-Haul to the garage door, I intercepted in my slippered feet and deposited them in the kitchen, the living room, or at the bottom of the stairs. (Most went into the kitchen, which should come as no surprise to you.)
After the truck was unloaded and returned, the real fun began. Mom and Laura washed wooden spoons and flatware and casserole dishes in the sink. I arranged Noritake dishes and Crate and Barrel glassware in the cupboards. Nick and Dad assembled commercial grade wire shelving (one of our most functional purchases to date) and stacked KitchenAid appliances and toolboxes in the garage.
And then we quickly realized our need for more storage space. We need a hutch for our barware and stemware, a bookcase for our 6+ boxes of books, and a medicine cabinet for the bathroom. These things will come in due time.
As a break from the boxes, we made our first (and definitely not our last) visit to Marzoni’s. Nothing will ever replace our beloved Otto’s, but this restaurant may soon rank among our favorites. Brick oven pizza and microbrews. Check and check.
Sunday: Settling In
Despite not hitting our (extraordinarily comfortable) bed sheets until after midnight, we were up by 7:30 on Sunday. (Does anyone else have a difficult time sleeping then there are boxes to unpack?)
Nick couldn’t wait to use our new waffle maker, and (after tossing the first two attempts, in accordance with the instructions) we sat down to our first homemade meal in our new home.
We still feel a bit disoriented in our new kitchen — we can’t help but reach for a garbage can that is no longer under the sink and knives that are now on the counter top instead of in a drawer — but we are in love with the extra space.
And so we continue to unpack and organize and settle in. Stay tuned!
Today is our final day on Locust Lane, and it is bittersweet. I’ve lived in this building for 5 1/2 years — first upstairs in an efficiency and then on the second floor in a one bedroom apartment.
I started my adult life here. For the first time I paid rent and electric along with student loans and car payments. I filled my cupboards with colorful dishes from the Pfaltzgraff outlet store and secondhand pots and pans. I watched the Food Network on a circa 1970s console television from new red couches. (You see where my priorities once lied.)
I hosted as many as nine friends in my small space on any given home football weekend. In the beginning we partied late on Friday night and tailgated early on Saturday morning. In later years we stayed in and sipped wine from the comfort of the red couches and crashed on the carpet immediately following the game.
For eight months in 2006 — during my dad’s battle with cancer — I had a roommate. My brother and I split the bedroom down the middle with tall bookcases. I would often come home from work to find him and his best friend playing video games with an empty bag of cookies between them. Andrew always ate the last cookie. But he made it up to me with his sausage sandwiches.
I established my independence here. I ran the neighborhood streets at dusk and tucked myself into bed. (Though admittedly I would quickly change the channel if a preview for a gruesome horror film filled the screen.) I grew up and learned to take care of myself here. I walked downtown when I was sick to buy cough medicine and chicken noodle soup. When the dishes piled up in the sink, I had nobody to blame but myself.
And then, almost three years ago, I walked into a university lab to produce a research report, and my life changed forever. He was wearing a white lab coat and hovered over a microscope. I had a camera bag slung over my shoulder and a tripod tucked under my arm. His name was Nick.
We fell in love in the kitchen with its retro cabinetry and half-size appliances. I seduced him with sweet potato and apple soup and chocolate cake with thick peanut butter frosting. Nick grilled burgers with tangy blue cheese, prepared calzones with pepperoni and pineapple, and introduced me to Wiener Schnitzel, which is still my favorite dish in his repertoire.
And then he got down on one knee on the carpet of this apartment with candles flickering all around us, and he asked me to marry him. Ten months later we said “I do” in a garden on the banks of the Susquehanna River.
From the day we locked eyes in the lab to the day we slipped rings on each other’s fingers, Nick moved from student housing in Hershey and into a farmhouse in Hummelstown. Then temporarily from the farmhouse and onto Locust Lane. Three months later he took a job and moved to Hoboken. Through every move, this place has remained our constant. He came here again in October, and we finally began permanent cohabitation as a married couple.
Some elements of my life before Nick remain. My scarves and jewelry are displayed on the wall outside of the bathroom. Macro shots of flowers hang in the hallway. And my sweaters and skirts still have the closet all to themselves.
But Nick inserted himself and his things in many ways. He brought a spider plant that multiplied faster than we could give it away. He lined the bookshelves with his neuroscience text books and German beer steins. And he stacked bins of camping gear and ski equipment behind the wardrobe in the bedroom.
The movers arrive at 8:30 tomorrow morning (weather permitting, of course) to pack up the previous five years — from vulnerable college girl to liberated single woman to hopelessly in love to happily married.
Twelve hours and counting until we establish residency on Noelani Drive.
How involved are you with agriculture? Most people will say not much, unless they’ve planted a seed or milked a cow or raised a chicken. Truth is that we’re involved with agriculture every day of our lives. We all eat food, right? Which means we should all be concerned with where it comes from.
This was the premise of PASA’s Farming for the Future Conference, The Sustainable Challenge: Providing for a Livable Tomorrow. I attended the 19th annual conference on Friday with 2,000 other folks who are passionate about food and concerned with its origin and quality.
The mission of PASA (Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture) is to “transform agriculture and food systems in Pennsylvania and beyond in a way that makes farmers more viable, improves the land, and restores the health and wellbeing of all citizens.”
I bumped elbows (literally, the hall was packed) with traditional Amish farmers and progressive farmers and environmental activists. Some were dressed in flannel and suspenders, others in slacks and cowboy belts, and a few in suits and ties.
These are smart and honest people who are dedicated to the very issues I have read about and have been troubled by. It was invigorating.
My mission was to find out how public media can be used to help promote PASA’s pursuits. I’m fortunate to have spoken to some really influential individuals and look forward to our collaborations.
This was a conference about food, so of course there were some excellent options. All of the meals were provided by local vendors. (I wish such wholesome food was so easily accessible every day — maybe some day.) For lunch I enjoyed a hummus wrap and pasta salad from Gaffron’s Sunrise Bakery in Centre Hall. And I purchased potato salad and applesauce from Eden View Organics to share with Nick later that night.
I also spent a few minutes between workshops sampling treats from Tait Farms (which is where we found our tannenbaum in December). The herbal balsamic vinaigrette was especially tasty and found its way into my brown grocery bag. The next night we drizzled it over organic greens. It can also be used in grilled vegetable and bean salad or warm mushroom and spinach salad. I tasted other items at Tait’s table that I plan to bring home soon, such as sour cherry dark chocolate sauce, ginger peach chutney, and apricot butter.
My final treat of the day was Alaskan sockeye salmon from Wild for Salmon. I purchased the fillet from the young couple who caught it. It’s sustainably harvested, fresh frozen, and vacuum packed. And it was delicious. On Saturday — our final Saturday on Locust Lane — we seasoned it simply with salt and pepper and pan fried it in olive oil. Before serving we squeezed a lemon over top and sprinkled it with parsley. Oh, yum.
I leave you with some food for thought (and encourage you to support local farmers in your community!):
- Eat food produced as close to home as possible.
- Feed thy neighbor as thyself.
- Simplicity is beautiful.
- Feed the world with local food. It may not be easy, but it’s the right thing to do.
- Fair prices will keep nutritious food on our tables.
- Who’s your farmer?
I’m resurrecting Favorite Finds with a special installment. Like any young married couple preparing to move (in 11 days!) into their first shared home, Nick and I have both taken to stalking the interwebs for ideas and items to fill our new place. Here are a few things we bookmarked over the weekend.
Organico bed linens for the master bedroom (from Crate and Barrel):
Months ago, before we created our wedding registry, we came across a beautiful organic duvet cover at Crate and Barrel. It was khaki colored with hints of sage and chocolate. It was delicate enough for me and subtle enough for Nick. (Anybody else notice how hard it is to find a bed spread with both feminine and masculine qualities?) Unfortunately, the cover was discontinued and nothing else we found compared to it. Until last weekend when I browsed the C and B in Towson and came across this beauty. In addition to the duvet cover, we also want to get the matching blanket. The textures are fantastic (hard to see in the photos), and we plan to add decorative pillows with punches of color.
Apothecary jars for the master bathroom (from The Container Store):
I still adore these jars from C and B, but this set from The Container Store is more affordable. It will be nice to have enough counter space (double sinks, yes!) to organize and display all of my necessities: cotton balls, Clinique face wash, Japanese Cherry Blossom body lotion, etc.
Inspiration for the bookshelf Nick plans to build (from Overstock):
Two years ago, Nick sketched a bookshelf based on this one from Target, complete with measurements and a list of building materials. Finally, we’ll have enough space to display it. Plus, we found a version we like even more. It’s simple and symmetrical. And, not to worry, we’ll find more charming items to arrange on the shelves — a wooden duck to remind us of Nick’s farmhouse in Hershey, a souvenir from the Pennsylvania Grand Canyon where Nick took me before he proposed, a Mayan artifact from our Mexican honeymoon, and more.
Inspiration for our future dining room table chairs (from Amazon):
When I moved into our current apartment three years ago, I bought a table and four chairs for $75 at a yard sale. The set has served me well, but it’s in need of a makeover. Fortunately, Nick brings into the marriage a solid dining room table from Pottery Barn. He left the chairs with a previous roommate — fine by me because they were quite mod — which gives us the opportunity to spruce up the solid Windsor chairs from my old set. We’ll stain the seats cherry to match the table and paint the remainders black. Eventually, we’ll need to get two more chairs, possibly with colorful slipcovers.
Linen Closet Love (from Apartment Therapy):
I’ll have a real true linen closet for the first time in my adult life — two to be exact! Luckily, Nick and I both have stockpiles of wicker baskets, which will keep our belongings neat and orderly. And our bath towels — in green tea and chamomile — will look lovely stacked on the shelves.
Instant Mudroom (from Young House Love):
There is a small section of empty wall space between our front door, our garage door, and the entrance to our kitchen. Although there is a closet for coats, I think Nick is more likely to hang his from a convenient hook rather than change direction, open a closet door, and pull out a hanger. I’m just sayin’, I know my husband. Plus, I can use my scarves and purses as decorative elements. An Ottoman that doubles as a storage chest may be in order, too.
Where do you go for home inspiration?
I grew up in the house my dad’s dad built. Grampy passed away just one month before my parents were married, so I never had the opportunity to meet him. But I’ve been told we would have adored one another.
I may never have seen Grampy walk through the front door of our house, but he left behind plenty pieces of himself. He carved the names of his four kids into the cement patio floor. He hand constructed window frames that still keep us warm. And he planted pine trees along the property line.
Unfortunately, three of those trees fell to the ground on Sunday night.
I left the house around 6:30 that night to drive back to my apartment. I had considered spending the night due to approaching storms, but I had a mandatory Monday morning meeting to prepare for. It wasn’t until after said meeting that I heard the news.
Apparently nobody inside heard the trees fall outside. It happened in the middle of the night, and the destruction was discovered by my sister when she walked out the front door to climb into her car and drive to school. Had her yellow Beetle been parked just a few feet closer to the house, it would have been buried by branches. Had I decided to spend the night, my red Civic would have buried, as well. As luck would have it — which was very unlucky for one member of the family — only one car was hit, and it was my dad’s blue Passat.
It’s sad, really, to say goodbye to trees that were part of both my dad’s childhood and my own. Grampy nurtured those trees from seedlings. They provided shade and privacy. The provided a canopy for tree forts and a “base” for games of tag. They were a welcome site as I turned down Andover Drive and approached the place my family has called home for 46 years. They will be missed.
