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Fall Autumn Memories Remembering New York

Remembering Autumn

Hello again dear reader. I am back with some enchanty enchantment. This time it is one of my first memories of fall in a wee town called Naples. No, not that Naples. Naples, New York. And guys, it’s in… the Finger Lakes. My love affair with the Flx started super young. Sorry.

So, I was given a challenge to participate in a weekly writing prompt. Not a personal invitation per se, but we can pretend. Lorna over at Gin & Lemonade is a rockin’ cool blogger who also runs a rockin’ cool blogging group on the Facebooks. She posted about this fun little challenge and I was all “You’re on!” So, pop right over to her page and check checkity check it out! But, first, read muh memory.

Twas a dark and stormy day…

No, really, it was. I was probably around 5 or 6 years old and my mom and dad were on the hunt for some fun. Apparently, that meant driving 2 hours to the South with the two kids from next door. I was game. I was 5. *shrug*

Let’s set the tone.

Fall Autumn Memories New York
Photo by Oliver Hihn on Unsplash

This is actually my first remembered experience with the Finger Lakes. In honesty, I remember only little snippets and I have a few old Polaroid photos to corroborate with.

Fall was in full swing which is a sight to behold in New York. We drove down to Naples and found a little trail that led to a tall wooden tree fort. My dad chased us around and in and out of the fort until our sides hurt. The leaves were slick and I had a bright pink winter jacket on. The wind would shake loose stray raindrops from the leaves every now and then. We explored and hiked and left worry behind.

Eventually, the cold and rain soaked into our bones and we decided to drive into town. I recall a large white stucco church with gorgeous bits of stained glass placed randomly through the walls. We stopped at a farmers market and bought grape pie. The sun began to shine through the rain soaked clouds. I remember thinking that this was the best day of my life.

We drove home through the gorgeous rolling hills covered with gold shimmering leaves. Past the big lake. Over flint creek where, if you stopped and watched, trucks would drive over a specially created underwater “bridge” carrying materials from one side of the creek to the other for a small, still family owned cement company. Around the curves of cows and corn. Through my tiny town and out into the country to my grandparents’ house.

We lived with my grandparents for what seemed like my whole life, but was probably a short year or two. In Fall, we would walk up the big hill to The Apple Shed for fresh pressed apple cider, warm donuts, and hay rides. The years blur into each other, much like the lines in a sepia photo, but I can’t forget that feeling. A feeling of belonging, home-ness, being in just the right place.

My trips up that hill are countless. Still today, I take a trip up that hill now and then, with my own child. The Apple Shed is far fancier than it was back then, but it smells the same. And it makes me feel the same. At home. Alive. Right with the world.

I will take Sebastian and my husband, Robbie, to Naples this year to find the old fort, if she still stands. And we will drive back through the hills, past the lake, over the creek, around the curves, and up the hill. And for a moment, I will be home.

Fall Autumn Apples New York
Photo by Roberta Sorge on Unsplash

Travel and lifestyle blogger, mommy, wife.


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