272 Washburn Rd

When I was growing up my parents would take us to my grandparents house quite often to visit. My grandparents lived in a Neverland sort of place - at least for me anyway. My grandfather worked in the Engineering Dept. at Edith Macy Conference Center (a Girl Scout owned property) and lived on the property in a beautiful home surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods, lakes, streams, and open space. I LOVED that place, and even though I have not been there in over 10 years the place holds a sacred place in my heart.

 I remember feeling, (and to this day I still do) that the place belonged to my family - that it was God's gift to me (even though the home my grandparents lived in was owned by the Girl Scouts. My grandparents lived there because my grandfather shared the responsibility of taking care of the property after hours with 2 other families who also lived on the property.)When I was little I remember waiting at the top of the hill in my grandparents front yard at 5 o'clock for my grandfather to come home. My heart would do a dance of joy when I would see his red work truck pull into the driveway and into the garage at the bottom of the hill. Usually, I would run the hill to greet him, and no matter how tired he may have been from a grueling day at work, he was NEVER too tired for my energy. Sometimes, before coming up the hill and into the house, he would stop first to weed and water his magnificent garden. Looking back, maybe that was his time to unwind from a hard day of physical labor, but as a child it never occurred to me that he would need a break from anything - especially not my constant chatter and exuberant energy that I always felt anytime I saw him. At its biggest, I can remember him growing strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, peppers, corn, currents, and other veggies. As time went on the garden got progressively smaller, and I will admit that it always made me a bit sad when I would see the garden shrink in size in the Spring. The changing of the garden just represented to me that life does not remain the same, and that it constantly is changing. While those changes have brought me to where I am today - when I was younger those changes were sometimes very unsettling and sad for me.

When he was done weeding the garden, my grandfather would slowly make his way up the hill, and into the house where he would find my grandmother in the kitchen and lean down to plant a gentle kiss on her face. After going upstairs to wash up for dinner we would sit down to an unbelievably delicious cooked from scratch home cooked meal. My grandmother has always (even to this day) prepared such great immaculate meals. She seems to spend all day everyday in the kitchen just preparing yummy delicious food for her family. To this day I am very grateful for the love she poured into her meals because no matter what we were all doing during the day dinnertime was a time of togetherness. A time when we would all come and share stories from our day and laugh and fill our bellies with the most delicious food.

After dinner, more often than not, I would ask my grandfather to take us for a walk. And, more often than not, my grandfather would concede, and off we would go on an adventure. Sometimes we would cross the stream and take a walk around the lake nearby the house. Other times we would venture a bit further, and walk into the trails cleared as access to the forest y the fire department or utility company in the event of a fire. My grandmother would provide bread for us to take so that we would be able to feed the Canadian geese that were found in abundance at the lake.

As I got older I was able to walk around the property on my own. I would often find myself telling my grandmother that I was off for a walk. Sometimes, I would be gone for what seemed like hours. Walking through the woods, past the Girl Scout buildings, beyond the lakes I would find such a peace and contentment. Even though there were many visitors that came to the Conference center on the property for training or camping I rarely saw a soul. I liked it that way because it made me feel like those hundreds of acres were all mine. I was surrounded by beauty day in and day out. I listened to Katy-Did's at the end of summer lying in my aunts old bedroom waiting for sleep to find me.  I got to witness the beauty of fall creep up on the trees and see their brilliant display of color. I got to see the tremendous beauty in a freshly fallen snow in March. I was able to see the labor and time invested in ducks sitting on their nests when little chicks would hatch and line up behind their mother to swim in the lake. I got to breathe in the scent of lilac in my grandmothers back yard. All of these things were available to me on any given day in any given season which only added to its magic.

It helped too, that not only did my Grandfather work for the Girl Scouts, but my Uncle and Aunt did as well. I would just as often seek out my Aunt as I would my Grandfather, and she would take me into the kitchen and spoil me rotten. I got to know some of the servers, cooks, dishwashers, and other personnel that she oversaw, and some of them treated me like family.

272 Washburn Rd was such a magical place. As I get older I appreciate it more and more, and I am so grateful that I appreciated the place back then too. It would have been such a tragedy if I had not taken advantage of all the magic that the place had to offer.

I speak of this place now because I hope that my children will have a place in their hearts that they think of when they are adults that is as magical to them as my grandparents property was to me.