I just returned from spending Thanksgiving with my family in Buffalo. My mom and dad still live there and I
recently wrote about growing up there. Here is a photo of the house where I grew up, in a suburb several miles south of Buffalo. Yes, I had to shovel the driveway before Thanksgiving! Unfortunately my father recently had a massive stroke; he's recovering (and far better than anybody expected) but I'm not sure they will be able to keep this house much longer.
There are so many memories tied up in this house; my father was always a gardener and I learned so much from him while I was growing up here. Here is a view out of my old bedroom window on the back of the house; hard to tell from this photo but the rhododendrons are about 10 feet tall and are smothered with gorgeous flowers in the spring. My father is justifiably proud of them. It's going to be hard for all of us to give up this house, where my parents have lived since 1968.
Western New York is sparsely populated and has some beautiful farmland and countryside. Spending time there while my father was in the hospital made me uncharacteristically homesick. I even miss the snow... for a few days! Otherwise winters are one of the things I don't miss. I spent a few days staying with my sister and this is the view out of her back door, overlooking farmland in a valley of the Boston Hills:
