tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7147598533288616740.post4836162018812278856..comments2009-02-15T22:43:16.678-05:00Country ChitChathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12871205091803657008noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7147598533288616740.post-56779240377686066122009-02-15T22:43:00.000-05:002009-02-15T22:43:00.000-05:00Just discovered the blog so I'm a few years late in responding to this post. I started renting a weekend cottage in Millerton almost 12 years ago. I was in the city all week and escaped every Friday afternoon for an oasis that none of my friends or family had ever heard of. They would go to the East End of Long Island, the Jersey Shore, New Hope or the Berkshires. But Millerton, where's that? And that's what I loved most. Only two hours from NYC, but it might as well been light years away. <BR/><BR/> I felt like a local the first time I went into Silamar Farms during asparagus season and asked Jill in disappointment, "Am I too late?" And Jill gave a sly smile turning to a basket behind the counter "It's not too late for my regulars." And she filled a bag with a pound of those beautiful fresh picked stalks, and quickly covered the rest of her stash. I felt like a local, the first time Sophia, formerly of Pasta At Large, left a line of customers at the counter to go outside and give my dog Miles one of her delicious meatballs as a treat. Or the first time Phil Terni modeled several of his fleece vests as I shopped for a birthday gift for my dad. <BR/><BR/>There have been so many of those moments over the years, that have made me realize that it was never about being accepted as a local but about me embracing my new home town. As much as I'll always be a downstate girl in my head, I've definitely become a Millerton girl in my heart.Joan Dnoreply@blogger.com