You know those places that get into your blood, are a part of your history, and inform who you are? A halcyon place, where cares melt away and you can just be?
In the 70s, my grandparents built a summerhouse in Northern New York, right where the St. Lawrence River opens up to Lake Ontario. I’ve gone there with my family every summer of my life, though I’ve spent less and less time there once I started working during the summers, then moving to DC and now Boston.
The house has huge picture windows facing the water, a screened-in back porch were we eat, architectural details from long-gone buildings that my grandfather salvaged during his career in the demolition business, and some crazy 70s décor. Avocado green bathroom anyone?
When I was younger, this is the place where we celebrated Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day and finally Columbus Day, when we harvested the acre of pumpkins my grandfather had planted to give away to family and neighborhood kids. This is not to mention the countless other weeks and weekends during the summer, spent in the company of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second-cousins, and so on.
Our days were marked with walks in the mornings, frequent swims, and trips on the water in powerboat, sailboat, or kayak. Evenings passed with strolls to the lighthouse down the road, watching the sunset (to which my grandmother would almost inevitably say “I’ve seen better!”), and games of cards and dominoes. Sometimes we’d even sneak in a swim under the stars before bedtime. Falling asleep, we’d hear the waves on the shore and wind in the trees.
In July, I had to say goodbye to my happy place, this repository of family history.
The house must be sold, thus I spent my last week in our idyllic retreat. It was bittersweet. I couldn’t help but frequently pause and think, “This will be the last time.” But every time I looked to my parents, sisters, and their spouses and children, I thought how lucky we have been to have such a place and such a family. After this summer, we’ll no longer have the house, but we’ll still have each other.
There is nothing I love more than my family. It’s one reason I love shooting weddings so much – getting to document and celebrate other families.
So this post and these photographs are a celebration of a very special place, and my very special family. Love and hugs.
Gorgeous photos, Kelly – I’m glad you were able to get up there one last time to celebrate all the memories that were made there over the years. (Also, the 2nd to last photo is really incredible – do you have polarizing lens filter to cut through the water and see the stones on the bottom?)