Amherst, Massachusetts

travel to amherst masachusetts
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amherst_massachusetts_treavel_blogger_6
amherst_massachusetts_treavel_blogger
amherst_massachusetts_treavel_blogger
amherst_massachusetts_treavel_blogger
amherst massachusetts travel blogger
amherst_massachusetts_treavel_blogger

A few months ago, I traveled back to my parents house to spend father’s day with my dad.  For those of you who don’t know, I was born and raised in the “country”…there was nothing, in the lease bit, metropolitan about it.   Picture this: corn fields & farms, cows and their manurey stench, a town full of liberals (I grew up in the day and age when there were winners and losers, now everyone wins?!  This is not real life, except in Amherst), no street lights leaving pitch black roads, a 10+ minute drive to a store to get milk, yet it offered some of the best food I’ve ever had.  You could look at it as, ‘peaceful’.

I just had my 5 year anniversary living in NYC on July 1st, and can’t remember what it was like to not live in a city full of life, art, and opportunity.  I sometimes wonder what life would have been like had I stayed in the small rural town.  Dubbed the “black sheep,” I somehow knew there was more to life, more to experience, a larger purpose, much more for me elsewhere.

I say all that to say, I am super grateful to have grown up where I did.  It has always been important to escape the chaotic city (which I call my home) to go sit in the peace and quiet of my parents.  A time to relax, a time to reflect, and a time to stop and literally smell the flowers.  I truly appreciate the beauty of how different our lives are, all while loving what the small New England town has to offer…the local bakeries and coffee shops, friendly faces all around, seeing stars clear as day, and the vast lush greenery of my mom and dad’s yard.  I’ve never met someone more proud of the upkeep of his lawn (and there’s a LOT of it!).  He usually can’t wait to show me the hours he and my mother spent tending to their manicured grounds.  We got right to it.  I threw on my mom’s gardening boots and hat and spent the day being walked around the east 40 (as my dad calls it), looking at every nook and cranny they have attended to.  A cold Bud in my dad’s hand a glass of champagne in mine.

I hope you enjoy these pictures as much as I enjoy walking around their humble abode.  If you know me, I’m sure you’ll laugh.  (*Disclaimer-there was no yard work ‘actually’ done – my parents couldn’t bribe me to do when I was a kid so as the perfect father’s day gift, I pretended to).

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