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US 20 is an historic thoroughfare. Through Massachusetts and New York it was one of the main roads heading out toward the western wilderness. How many folks traveled it with dreams of new beginnings somewhere west? That west was always changing, too. Western New York, Ohio, the plains, the far northwest. I dream of what lies ahead on my journey, western landscapes I've never seen before. Yet, when done traveling, I'll return home to the hills of the Finger Lakes. Those settlers who ventured west on the turnpike were dreaming of making a home for themselves in the wide open spaces somewhere beyond the horizon. Maybe they were the real travelers. How can I even imagine I'm one in my 83 Honda Wagon and a comfortable home to return to?
Rolling hill country upstate New York Route 20. Antiques, dairy farms, apple orchards. Light rain begins to fall, then occasional heavy downpours that make it hard to see through the windshield. Uphill, downhill; light rain, heavy rain; summer, autumn; familiar ground, new ground.
A short stop at Bouckville, antique center of Route 20. At a pavilion full of dealers I stop at one stall featuring postcards and ask if there's any of Route 20. We search through "Roadside" grouping and nothing. Again, Route 66, no 20!
Cazenovia. Small village of shops, Victorian houses and rolling hills nearby. Small lake of the same name just west of the village.
stillness of water
quiet Cazenovia
rest here a minute
A few canoers in parking area at south end of lake where 20 skirts by. Rain slickers, hats, coming in off the water. A wet day for canoeing. I sit in the car instead of venturing out in the light misty rain.
granite blocks on shore
framed by white blooming asters
intermittent rain
The intermittent rain turned into downpours. Beyond Lafayette numerous signs for Beak & Skiff Apple Orchards. I turn where the sign points south and drive a half mile off 20 to reach the orchards. Sunday afternoon, pouring rain in the rolling rural hills of New York and the parking lot is full of cars! I park as rain comes down in buckets. On the porch of the store stand throngs of people. What a hopping, busy place! Not at all like the much smaller orchard I stopped at in Massachusetts.
I ran out of the car and squeezed onto the porch. Inside, people milled around watching cider being pressed, browsing shelves full of honey, cheese, apple bread, pickled onions, sweatshirts, gift packs to be sent through the mail, and even apples! Candace Morse, one of the managers, told me that this wasn't a very busy day! What was it like on a busy day, I wondered. The cider was a wonderful treat.
From the book of Twenty Days on Route 20 (FootHills Publishing)
Copyright 1997 by Michael Czarnecki
Photograph Copyright 2001 by Michael Czarnecki
About Route 20
US Route 20 is the longest US Route in the country. It stretches approximately 3,300 miles, from Boston to Newport, Oregon. Along the way it passes through major cities, small villages, rural farmland, mountains, high desert, crosses two major rivers and connects the present with the past. In contrast to Route 66, much of US 20 is still intact. Only about 5% of its length has been swallowed up by the Interstate Highway System.
Michael Czarnecki
From that first time writing a poem, 34 years ago, I have not been able to stop writing poetry. That first poem, about the Vietnam war, was influenced by the folk music songs of the 60s. Other poetic influences over the intervening decades have been Robert Frost, Gary Snyder, Robinson Jeffers, Lew Welch, T'ao Ch'ien, Basho, Ryokan, Su Tung-P'o and countless others.
18 years after writing that first poem in 1967, I gave my first reading of a poem in public. That was not an easy step for one who was never comfortable speaking in front of an audience. I survived that ten-minute long reading (it was a long poem) and have not looked back.
In the last few years I've given well over 200 featured readings throughout much of the United States. I've been featured at readings from Maine to Oregon, Minnesota to Louisiana. Libraries, coffeehouses, literary centers, museums, nature centers, wine festivals, music festival, parks, a retirement center and even a bed and breakfast have been venues for my readings. Many of these locations have invited me back for return engagements.
In conjunction with readings, I have facilitated numerous writing workshops for writers of all ages. The workshops are informal, friendly, can be focused on a certain theme or be free-flowing in-the-moment experiences. I like to consider myself an encourager and the workshops are reflective of that attitude.
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