It’s a road I have traveled dozens of times, maybe hundreds by car or bicycle for the past twenty years but it wasn’t until I took a meander-ing walk this summer when I came upon an area of town which I had never noticed. Something new found in the familiar was a peaceful apple orchard with trees living in silent community waiting for any passerby to visit. A posted sign indicated the park was open to the public. Hey, that’s me, Joan Q. Public. A wrought iron gate led me to a path which looped around a bend to an old foot bridge that may have covered a shallow brook at one time. This secluded gem was obviously well-maintained by the hamlet of Pearl River while respecting the integrity of the original grounds. I didn’t know at first it was an apple orchard until I walked closer to the trees. There were clusters of small apples throughout the branches of each tree. I reached for one to take it home as if I had found some tre...
T here’s an elderly woman who lives a few houses down from me. She appears to be about 85, short, stout, full of energy. Today on what felt like one of the coldest in February, 20 degrees with a wind chill of 19 mph, our paths crossed while walking. We greeted one another with an enthusiastic “Hello how are you!” She quickly replied, “As long as we’re able to walk, we’re doing okay.” We continued in our opposite directions, tugging at our collars and burying our hands deep within our coat pockets. Even with the wall-to-wall sunshine the cold temperatures quickened my pace. And just like that, her one sentence stuck in my mind all the way home because I knew there were times when I could not walk. Flu has kept me flat on my back twice; infrequent bouts of vertigo; oral surgeries, assorted viruses; migraines; and more recently a fractured ankle. From t...