Fall Tour to New England - Days One and Two

Some of my favorite memories from when I was a kid, include the times the family gathered around the slide projector for a travelogue presentation after my grandparents or an aunt or uncle returned from a vacation.  My father was especially great when it came to putting together a great slide presentation.  He would carefully organize the slides before the family would gather, popcorn would be popped before the lights were turned out, then we would all be in for a treat as he recounted the latest vacation adventures to those who had gathered.  He was witty, funny, and added a lot of historical information about the places that had been visited.  

  

Now, families no longer live nearby other family members.  We share our trip photos on facebook, or we recount our adventures on a blog.  So, in the spirit of an old fashioned slide show presentation to family, I will be sharing the vacation that my husband and I took throughout New England via my blog.  

* See source

Planning the Trip


Spontaneity is my preferred mode of attack when it comes to living life.  I think this is because planning for future events is just not an easy thing for me to do.  Once I get my mind set on making a plan, I can usually create a good one that I can follow, but when it comes to planning a trip, I really have a difficult time deciding exactly where I want to go, what I want to see, and where I want to spend the most time.  I guess if I had it my way, my husband and I would get in a car and start driving and see where we end up.

Thankfully, my husband wants a detailed itinerary in place before we take off on a trip that will span two weeks.  Also, thankfully, he does most of the legwork, research, and advanced reservations before we take off into the unknown.  He's good at that.  I'm not.  All he requires from me is a general area of where I want to visit with a few specific spots I don't want to miss.

When it came to time to get serious about the planning, we started at Triple A, my least favorite thing to do.  I generally find their trip picks hard to follow and have found them to be misleading at times, but it is a good place to start.  Then, we found a few big maps of New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts.  I love this part.  I love looking at maps and trying to find a route that looks interesting, but I also find it a bit overwhelming when I look at maps of areas where I have never been before.

We also skyped with my friend, Dove, who lives in Vermont about just about everything we needed to know about flying into and seeing her part of the world.  Thankfully, she and her husband gave us great advice.

As we planned for our trip, we decided there were certain goals we wanted to make sure we accomplished:

• Visit Ithaca, New York.  My husband had been there a few years back and he loved the area and wanted to make sure I saw not only Ithaca, but also Cornell University.
• Visit the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.
• Spend time in Vermont with our dear friend from high school days, Dove, and her husband, David.  Dove introduced me to my husband when I was only sixteen years old.  You can read a little about Dove here.  Our friendship spans 50 years.  She is a dear, dear friend. 
• We wanted to see autumn color.  We knew we were visiting before the peak season, but we decided the timing of our visit worked best for us.
• We wanted to stay in some bed and breakfasts along the way.
• We wanted to have some good quality family time with my son, his wife, and my grandson who live in the Boston area. 

All of these goals were all accomplished with the trip.

Ithaca, New York


After an exhausting initial day of travel, one where we left Denver at midnight on Sunday, September 18, we arrived in Syracuse, New York in mid-afternoon.  We had a very long layover in JFK.  I think we learned our lesson.  DO NOT, if possible, include a layover in any travel itinerary.  The redeye would not have been so bad if we had flown directly to Syracuse.

We then rented a car in Syracuse and drove to Ithaca.  We reached our bed and breakfast about 5:00 in the evening.  Our vacation had officially begun, and we were very excited.  I gushed over our first bed and breakfast when we drove up.  I loved it on first sight!  My husband had done an awesome job when he found this place on the internet.

Don't you just love this place?  The name of the inn is The Hound & Hare.  If you are ever in the Ithaca area, I recommend you plan on staying in this delightful place.  Situated in Cayuga Heights, a beautiful, wooded and secluded area of Ithaca, very near Cornell University, this B&B had great charm, class, and provided us with the perfect quiet, warm, inviting, and charming place to rest after our long day of travel.  We basically had the run of the place.  We came on the day after homecoming weekend at Cornell, so all the guests for that weekend had gone home by Sunday night.  This meant we could relax without having to visit and interact with other guests.  (We are social people, but we were very tired!)

After we stopped oohing and ahhing over the outside of the house, Jim looked at the email from the innkeeper and read that the key, room assignment, and instructions would be left in a basket on the front door.

We walked in and found this beautiful living area.  Later that evening, I found my husband dozing in one of these chairs.  He didn't take long making himself at home.

Our room, on the second floor, was called The Victoria.  I've included a photo from the website for the bed and breakfast since we forgot to take a photo.  I must say that this room was just perfect for us.  I slept like a baby in its comfy bed.  The bed, the pillows, and the comforter were just perfect.  I literally sank into bed and fell asleep.

Later, I learned that our charming innkeeper was born in this very bedroom!

In the morning, we went downstairs to have a wonderfully prepared breakfast served in great style.

I loved the Franciscan Desert Rose pattern dishes!

Since we were just a little early for breakfast, we were able to take some time to tour the backyard of The Hound & Hare.  A beautiful side patio is shown below.  I took the photo of this patio from the deck just off the dining room.  I couldn't help but think how fun it would be to have a party on that patio.

Below, is the view of the backyard as viewed from the back of deck off of the dining room.  A path next to a nice herb garden can be seen.

This photo shows the back of the house, the deck, the patio, and a part of the herb garden.  The entire property was enclosed by very tall trees.  This added to peaceful, secluded aspect of this wonderful bed and breakfast.

Meet Zeta Sprole, the charming innkeeper of The Hound & Hare.  I truly enjoyed visiting with her.  She was trained as an engineer at Cornell.  She then married a military man and raised a large family.  Eventually, she returned to her childhood home and opened it up as a bed and breakfast after her husband passed away.

Her life is never dull these days.  She has had many visiting professors, alumni of Cornell and even a U. S. Supreme Court justice stay at her inn.

We toured the rest of The Hound & Hare and found every room to be unique and special.  You can take your own tour by clicking on this link.  Each of the four bedrooms is named for one of her daughters.  Evidently, she ran out of bedrooms before she ran out of daughter's names.  She has five daughters.  This gave me another reason to respect her greatly.  I have three daughters, so I can only imagine what it must be like to have five!

Unfortunately, we only planned to spend a late afternoon, evening, one night, and a morning in Ithaca.  We hated to leave this wonderful bed and breakfast in a town I wished I could spend more time exploring.  We only had time for a quick drive through Cornell.  We also ate dinner on the night we arrived in Ithaca at a fabulous Mexican food restaurant called Viva Taqueria.  My sister said we "cracked her up" because we went to New York and picked a Mexican food restaurant for dinner.  Hey, we love Mexican food.  I would go back to this place any time I could.  It was great.

On the day we left Ithaca, we took some time to visit Buttermilk Falls.  Buttermilk Creek flows toward Cayuga Lake and becomes a waterfall as it cascades towards its destination.  The Falls are a part of a much larger park that includes hiking trails, a smaller lake, and even playing fields.

No vacation plan is perfect.  We certainly found that our plan would have been tweaked if we had it all to do over again.  We would have spent more time exploring Ithaca, Cornell, Buttermilk Falls, and we would have spent more time visiting with Zeta at The Hound & Hare.  Maybe we can go back again someday.  We had to leave this beautiful place and more on to our next stop:  Cooperstown.





*Photo from:  mmartinweb.com

Meet Boston

 The following were on my list to get done this fall:

1. Take a trip to New England to see the autumn leaves and to visit with friends and family.
2. Get a puppy.

I began my search for a puppy before we left on vacation, but thought it would take at least a month after we got home to find the perfect fit.  Well, that was not the case.  On my husband's first day home, he looked at ads in the newspaper for golden retrieve pups.  He was just doing the preliminary research so we could  get serious about finding our new pet.  It seems that we didn't need to search long.  The very first litter of golden retriever pups that we went to visit had the one that stole our hearts.  (Of course, that was easy.  We love golden retrievers, and who doesn't love a puppy?)

The nice family who owned our new pup's mom had named the one we picked out Titan.  I loved him for his combination of spunk, independence, and sweetness.  He seemed to stand out in the litter of ten.  He won my heart, but I walked away for a few hours to think about it.  Ok, the truth is I had to go directly to the bank to take out the cash to purchase my new little bundle of love.  We also had to go to the pet store to buy a kennel, toys, food, treats, or in other words, to begin to make sure our puppy had everything he might need to be happy.

We also needed to think about naming our addition to the family. Boston was the first name that popped into my mind.  We had just returned from our visit to that wonderful city.  The breeders were originally from Boston.  Boston seemed to be the perfect name for our third golden retriever.

We were heartbroken when we had to put our dear 11 year old Buster down due to a cancer we didn't even know he had just three days after the death of Julie in 2010.  (You can read about  Buster here.)  We missed our dear companion so much for so long, but both of us knew we just weren't ready to get another dog.  We had agreed that Fall 2011 would be a good time to start looking for a dog.

It didn't take us long.  Boston won us over the minute we saw him.  Now, we are training a new puppy.  What were we thinking?  We are spending a lot of time in the yard, a place he already prefers to be, trying to housebreak him.  He has earned an "A" from me in that department.  He is doing nicely.  At night, we are enduring the first few nights of kennel training.  He slept through the night last night.

I forgot how much time a puppy takes, but it is all worth it.  I really don't know how I made it so long without a dog in the house.  We needed new life in this place.  We needed something to look after, to train, to love, to watch grow.  It is hard to be sad with a puppy in the house.  "There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face."  ~Ben Williams


*  My daughter Keicha also added two new puppies to her household recently.  I knew as soon as I saw pictures of her beautiful Sophie, that I too would soon succumb to "puppy love."  You can read about her new addition here.  

Testing, One, Two, Three...

I just realized that the blog post I wrote yesterday and posted is not showing up on blog rolls.  I have been gone for two weeks and wonder what is going on.  I will have to check into glitches with blogger and see if others have had this problem.

I'm back from break and trying to catch up on reading all the blogs I missed.  So, blogging friends, if you see this post, please let me know.  I am so confused on why the post I wrote last night and posted shows up on my dashboard but does not appear on the blog roll of others.  Feedback would be appreciated.

The Break is Over

No man needs a vacation so much as the person who has just had one.  ~Elbert Hubbard


I find I am really relating to this quote today.  After being away from home for over two weeks, I've spent the day adjusting to life back at the ranch (home).   Anyone who has been away from home for any length of time knows that it takes a while to adjust to the new time zone, unpack the suitcases, wash the dirty clothes, go through stacks of mail, and go through over 500 e-mails.  I am also way behind on reading the blogs I follow.  So, I spent the day easing back into real life.  I don't want to rush into anything too fast because then I will truly need another vacation!

Jim at our first bed and breakfast

Ithaca, New York

My husband and I spent the past few weeks touring much of New England.  We were a bit ahead of peak time for "leaf peeping" in Upstate New York, Vermont, and New Hampshire.  I am happy with our decision to go on our trip when we did.  It fit our schedule, and we saw autumn in her beginning stages without being caught up in the crowds.  We beat the tour buses!  While we were gone, we also spent some wonderful days in the Boston area with my youngest son and his family.

This trip was the first extended vacation we have taken since our nearly month long trip to Europe during the early spring of 2010.  As many of you may know, we had only been home two weeks from that trip when my youngest daughter took her life.  Since that time, I have been dealing with the shock and grief that came from this tragic loss.  I wondered if I could ever leave home for any extended length of time again.  


The good news is that I think this trip was extremely beneficial to me.  It was not an easy trip.  I was ill through much of it, but in the end, I felt healthy mentally, emotionally, and physically.  In fact, in many ways, I believe I turned a corner in my journey through grief while we were in new locales.  Being away from home, away from the place where I have attempted to come to grips the greatest shock and devastation of my life, seemed to help me put some of the shock of Julie's death behind me.  By this, I mean that for the first time since her death, I found that I was no longer floundering in disbelief.  

I needed to leave the past few seasons behind.  This past spring and summer have been very hard on me emotionally and physically.  I was dreading the change of another season even while I was very much in need to see this past summer put behind me.  The summer had been so hot, so dry, so hard on me.  I was ready for a change of climate.  My soul needed some replenishment.

Buttermilk Falls

Ithaca, New York

We began our journey in Ithaca, New York.  The damp, cool weather felt wonderful to me.  As we made our way from Ithaca to Cooperstown, somewhere in the Adirondack Mountains, I saw the first splash of fall colors in the landscape.  I asked my husband to stop so I could photograph the first display of fall flowers and pumpkins that I saw along the road.  

The colors of fall seemed to give my heart new life.  Grouped in a simple display next to this a large autumn gold barn, the yellow, red, pink, and rust colored mums were just garden variety potted plants that can be found in front of any grocery store this time of year, but somehow the colors blended together to form a memory of other autumns in my life. 

Fall is my favorite time of year.  I needed to love it again.  I needed to be introduced slowly to its beauty again so I could appreciate its glory.  Small dabs of eye popping splashes of color seemed to be just the right amount of contrast against the green shades of summer to awaken my love for a season I thought I would never fully enjoy again. I needed to be reminded that "for everything there is a season."  I needed to know that grief also has its seasons.  "There is a time for grief," but there is also   "...  a time for rejoicing."  I needed to learn that one's heart is not forever dead to the beauty of life and nature.  

I will remember these past few weeks as a time of healing for my heart.  I have a new appreciation for health, for friends, for the changing of the seasons, for family, and for my husband.  He has been so generous in the way he has provided wonderful opportunities and experiences for me.  He has spared no expense.  His patience has been beyond measure as I battled through illness throughout the trip.  We survived navigating new roads and routes through country we did not know.  


We had a break from everyday life and along the way found that we still had to deal with life and all that it throws at you.  One never knows what one will encounter on any journey, whether it is across country or through life.  This trip served as a reminder that I am blessed with a dear traveling companion.   For that,  I am extremely grateful. 

Near Stowe, Vermont
Jim & Sally 
in the autumn of their lives

Give Me A Break

A few years ago, when we finally retired, or should I say when we officially retired,

my husband and I took a cruise to Alaska to celebrate.

We were so excited.

I look like I'm on drugs in the photo above, but really, I wasn't.

My husband looks as if he can barely contain his excitement just as we boarded our cruise ship.

We had a great time on our wonderful trip.

We aren't going on a cruise, 

but we are taking a break for a few weeks.

 I've never really taken a blog break before.  

I will really miss keeping up with all my blogging friends, 

but for the next few weeks, access to the computer and time to write will be limited. 

 I'll catch up with you all when I get back from our break.

Just Do The Next Thing

Oldest son on his 206 mile journey
Ryan and his support team
LOTOJA 2007
He took it one mile at a time.

Those words, "Just do the next thing." have been given to me as advice twice this week.  When I hear something new, something I have not heard before, I always sit up and take note.  Sometimes, I don't even know that I need to hear something until I hear it, then the soundness of the tidbit of wisdom being imparted in just a simple phrase will resonate with me for days.

I love plain, uncomplicated, straightforward advice.  I love phrases that stick in my head, guiding my way through a jungle of mixed up emotions, reactions, thoughts and concerns.  I tend to use these simple instructions, such as "Just do the next thing." as my go to guides when I am navigating unknown territories of life.  They become a mantra in my head.  They guide me forward when I don't know what to do and want to crumble into a heap on the floor.

When I was working and faced with bins full of journals to read, stacks of essays, research papers and book reports to be graded, and a blank lesson plan book that need to filled with lessons for the next week, and long range goals and objectives to meet, I would get through it all by listening to my father's words that lived in my head, "Just get through it one paper at a time."

Recently, nearly fifteen months into my journey through grief, I asked myself how I would ever keep on this road of recovery.  It seemed the journey had gone on way too long.  I looked down the road that spanned through the rest of my lifetime and asked myself how I would ever go on feeling this hole in my heart that seemed would never be filled.  The road before me suddenly seemed way too long.  It seemed like a much longer journey than I had anticipated.

The answer to how I would travel that long road came to me this past Sunday when I attended a grief recovery support group.  It came, almost as an afterthought, the last item on a list of seven suggestions for living with grief.  A brief phrase was given: "Just do the next thing."  That certainly doesn't seem like some powerful, life changing adage, but it was for me in that moment.  At that moment, that statement did become a simple expression of a general truth on how to successfully complete my journey through grief.  I came away from the meeting feeling renewed and inspired.

The next day, I had an appointment with a spine specialist.  The news was not good.  My problems with my lumbar region and my cervical area on the spine are worse than I thought.  Injections are the only answer for my pain and mobility.  I have tried everything else; there is nothing else to try.  There is nerve damage.  That can't continue.  If the injections don't work, I will most likely be looking at surgery.  I just could not take this news in.  I was overwhelmed with the thought of what was ahead when it comes to living with this literal pain in my backside and in my neck.

The next day, my wise counselor said, "Sally, when you are looking at such medical issues as you are, you can't look too far down the road.  You must just ask yourself, "What is the next thing?  Then do it."  I must have looked a bit shocked because I remember just staring at her.  She went on to say that MRIs and X-rays always look worse than symptoms might be.  She encouraged me to just do the next thing.  Have the injections, then see what happens from there.  Take it one day at a time.  Just do the next thing. Finally, I told her that this was the second time in three days that I had heard that advice.

I am listening.  I am incorporating that phrase into my response to the issues of life.  She reminded me that in my professional life, I was a planner, one who got things done, one who looked down the road and anticipated what must be done and did it.  Life in general cannot always be lived that way.  Life happens.  We suffer loss.  We deal with health issues.  We get hit with things we never dreamed would cross our path in this life.

Today, I go in for another health related test.  I will have my second GI procedure in a week.  I am just taking it moment by moment.  I must rush off now because I must do the next thing: take a shower.  Then I will take the drive with my husband to the medical center.  When I get there, I will do the next thing.

9/11/01 - Teaching During Tragedy

There are two events in history that are forever linked in my mind to Room 509, the room where I taught high school English.  Those two events are Columbine and 9/11. I was in the classroom teaching when both these events burst upon the national scene and changed our lives forever.

When such terrible tragedy occurs while one is teaching, the role of being a teacher takes over.  I found that I could not allow myself the luxury of fully experiencing my own shock and grief during either event because I had a responsibility to help my students process and understand what was happening without causing them to become even more confused and afraid because of the way I presented myself.  I had to be strong for them.  I had to reassure them that we were safe.  I had to make sure that they knew that I would be in charge of our little corner of the world while I tried to help them make sense of what was happening.  I could not give in to panic.  I could not cry uncontrollably.  I could not go into some sort of stunned shutdown.  I had to manage my classroom and look after my students.

I will never forget the morning of 9/11.  I was at the front of my classroom standing at my podium taking roll for my first period class when I notice a colleague  who did not teach first period standing outside my row of classroom windows that looked out into the library.  She seemed terribly upset, shaken.  She was the drama teacher afterall, but her distress seemed extreme and quite real.  I walked to the door at the back of the room and quietly asked if something was wrong.  "Some SOBs have just flown air planes into the Twin Towers in New York City," she said.  "Does your television work?  Turn it on.  We're under attack."

"I can't just go back in there and turn on my t.v. and watch New York being attacked by air," I said.  "Find out if this is true and what is really happening.  Surely, we will hear from administration if this is true.  Surely, they will come and tell us what is happening."  "Don't be too sure," she said.  "You know how teachers are the last to know."

True.  We were the last to find out what was really going on.  Within no time at all, parents were showing up at the school and taking their kids home.  I had turned the television on by then to try and get some news.  I had decided that it was better that the students heard what was going on from a news source in an environment where I had some control.  I would be able to help them make sense of what was happening.  I asked the students to get out their journals to write about their emotions.  I told them to write down their questions that still lingered as to what was really happening.  I said it was important to record what they were seeing happen.  I encouraged them to write their emotions out.  I offered to read and discuss privately what they had written.   It seemed to be the only thing I could do that would help the students make sense of a world that had suddenly exploded before their eyes.  Perhaps, my approach was wrong.  I tried to keep communication open.  I tried to reassure.  I tried to comfort.  I was not ever told how to hand such a thing in any of my teacher ed classes.

I had not taken into account that our principal would finally come on the P.A. with the following announcement:  "Teachers, you are to turn off your televisions.  You are to follow the lesson plans you have for today.  Any news that needs to be relayed to you and your students will come from the office.  Do not excuse any student from your classroom unless they are sent for by the office.  Do not allow your students to leave your classroom."

He was a former social studies teacher.  Somehow, he didn't think it was appropriate that we watch history being made during class time.  Somehow, he didn't think the delivery of the curriculum should be adjusted to use the current event topic as a writing prompt.  We were to stay on task.  There would be no television watching in his school.

Ironically, in my tenth grade English classes we were to read, Contents of a Dead Man's Pockets that day. (Click on the story title to read the story yourself.)  The story is about a man who goes after a piece of paper that flies out of a window in a skyscraper.  He actually goes out on the ledge of the building to go after the paper.

So, while New York City was under attack, and while the people of New York were facing untold horror, we read about a guy stuck on a ledge of a skyscraper.  I don't know when a story seemed more real than the one we read that day.  I don't know when a story generated more discussion that seemed to really fit what was going on around us.

It is ironic to me that I now see much on the internet on how teach today's students about 9/11.  I am not sure that even now after all these ten years I know that how I handled what I taught my students about what was happening before our very eyes was appropriate.  I don't know that I am able to make sense of what happened that day any better today than I could then.  I only know that I wanted my students to know that when it appears the world is falling down around you, it is important to pull together, talk to each other, support each other, and to help each other feel less afraid.

We all lost a measure of innocence that day.  Life as we knew it changed.  The unthinkable had happened.  I remembered the bomb drills that we had practiced when I was a child in elementary school during the early 50's when we hid under our desks, or lined up in the hallway with our head tucked between our knees.  Those fears of being bombed had been left behind in the 50's.  Now, in the first year of the new millennium, I found myself teaching in a classroom while watching air planes attack the center of New York City.  I still am not sure any of us can ever teach others what that meant to us personally or to our nation.