Hartwick, NY
Great chunks of granite and layers of shale; lakes, rivers and streams; the rise and fall of hills, the long views; the colors and textures and scents of fields and forests; the call of cardinals – we are back in Otsego County. For me, this is a return to the landscape I grew up in. When people ask Jay where he grew up he replies that he hasn’t yet. But my California husband has adopted New York as home.
We arrived here on the 29th of July, road weary, especially after a final driving day of intense rain. I think we were all glad not to get into the car on the 30th. We’ve packed so much into the last two weeks that it seems like we’ve been here much longer. I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve run into Aviva and Peter. We’ve been up to the Quinn’s beautiful home on our old Gulf Road. We’ve been out to the Heustis’ on Goose Street in Fly Creek. We’ve been to two concerts at the gracious old Otesaga Hotel, and we’ve taken an overnight trip to stunning Lake George to see Blythe and meet Hanju’s family. Tonight I’m going with part of the Heustis clan to the children’s opera at Glimmerglass. Phew! And of course the really big event was closing on the house at 37 Averill in Cooperstown.
For now, we’re living in the small rental unit at the back of my house in Hartwick. We had initially planned to stay here for the several months it will take to complete the renovations to the upper level of Averill, but yesterday we decided to move into the lower level there as soon as the messiest part of the demolition is done and the upper and lower levels are separated. It will mean living with some construction noise during the day, but we’re eager to be right there where it’s happening and to settle into our new neighborhood. We’ve come up with a great plan for the remodel of the upper level, with ideas contributed by many great minds and a fabulous kitchen design by Jay. I know how uncertain life can be, but this feels like our last home – at least for as long as we can live independently. We’ve been out there several times, loving the light and space and surroundings more each time. We’re right on the edge of the Village where it is mostly forest – the best of both worlds, in the town and in the country The first time we drove up Averill a young deer and her speckled fawn strolled across the road in front of us, in no hurry to yield to humans.
The little unit we’re living in for now in Hartwick turned out better than I had imagined, with Jay’s great redesign of the space and Mike’s excellent craftsmanship. Everything is done except for the countertop and sink which should be installed Wednesday. With minimal furniture here and washing our few dishes in the bathroom sink, it feels a little like camping out. But we have everything we need – Hazel even has a scratching post, and Charlie has a good place for walks. After a week on the road, it’s lovely to stay put for a while. The move into the lower level of Averill will be another temporary one, but we’ll be seeing the daily progress on our long term home. I haven’t felt rootless since we left Sunnyhill over two years ago – home is where Jay and Charlie and Hazel and I are. But I am ready to settle in, ready to unpack all the boxes and hang all the artwork, ready to not submit any more change of address forms or update any more online accounts.
Every choice has consequences. We already miss family and friends in California. This morning I emailed my dear pals and told them to take me off the weekly mah jongg emails. It’s not an ending, just a shift. And now my sisters are not three hours ahead of me and I am sometimes the first of us to send out a morning text complaining about the letters in the daily spelling bee game we play. I miss my canal walks and all the pals Charlie and I made there, but there are new dogs to meet and new lawns for Charlie to pee on.
At the southern edge of Cooperstown the rolling hills west of highway 28 are planted in sunflowers. Row upon row of them stand tall with their yellow heads facing the rising sun, worshiping their own God. It’s a spectacular congregation. Every place has its holiness.