Life-long resident June Pawlikowski Miller is starting a column called “I’m From Here”, in recognition of the uniqueness of our town. Here are her first entries, celebrations of life and of autumn.

I’m From Here: Bittersweet
Even though I’m from here, today was only the second time I’ve enjoyed the pavilion’s hospitality. I really should get out more. The sky was that beautiful fall blue, mixed with white, white clouds that didn’t block the sun but instead uplifted one’s spirits. The October air was warm, more reminiscent of September, clear and fresh but not yet crisp. The locust leaflets rained down with the occasional breeze, filling the nearby air with yellow confetti, fitting indeed for a homecoming celebration.

I received a very fine welcome from the honored guest, a very delightful and grown-up six-year-old who solemnly welcomed each attendee, asking tentatively “is that present for me?”

Addiction hurts. But even when it does, it can be the catalyst for determination, steadfastness, and incredible acts of love and kindness and goodness. Though addiction was the unfortunate backdrop, today’s celebration was orchestrated well indeed by this small boy’s proud, grateful grandparents. They were thankful and happy, and we were thankful and happy right back.

Many joined the festivities, and I recognized many that, like me, could rightly say they were ‘from here’. Some sat singly, in quiet reflection. Others, in groups, chatting and enjoying a traditional and excellent repast. And the children played, and played.

Thankfulness. It all stemmed from thankfulness. The thankfulness spread and spread, until it caused a celebration. At the center of it all, a small boy, playing and piling his grandpa with all the gifts he’d received. A small boy who can call all of Hampton “family”.

I’ve seen an irony that both hardship and blessing can produce fine things. Today I got to join in a celebration that was breathed by both. It was a beautiful thing, one that makes this Hamptonite once again proud to say, “I’m from here”.

I’m From Here: Small Treasures
The brisk walk along the Goodwin northbound section of the Airline Trail with good friends left me sweating, jubilant, energized. The fiercely, perfectly blue sky framed the trees’ autumn-color-laden leaves, which on occasion floated down for us to examine as we chose. While my mom used to refer to this kind of cloudless sky as a ‘weather breeder,’ I’m aware of no weatherman who has even hinted at anything but sun for the next few days. Time will tell which is right!

Next stop? The General Store, for meat loaf! Upon entry, Brutus immediately greeted me at the door with soft whines. It did little to enhance his already gentlemanly charm. I had no treats, so took directions to the back of the store (Brutus coming along) to find some to buy. Brutus quickly devoured the treats, then whined softly in recognition as another regular entered the store. Ah, no meatloaf today, but for this single gal, the eggplant parm that I chose may last at least the next three substantial meals. Huzzah! A brilliant, beautiful fall day, with mozzarella-laden eggplant and tomato sauce. Who could ask for more!

From there, a quick drive to Organic Roots. Of course, I join in the conversation already underway between Rosetta and a patron who had a handful of zinnias and other fall flowers. As that patron leaves (yes! She left her car running. No! I didn’t lock my own car) Rosetta immediately begins her conversation with me: “I should know you; I’m sure we’ve met?…” This is my indication that I spend far too little time at Organic Roots. I introduce myself, and it’s a fond reintroduction. I had the pleasure of meeting Sam while he was scouting out Popover Hill for a farm, and for his family, and we had and have a lot in common. Sam and Rosetta and their family are kindred spirits to both me, and Hampton.

I am impressed with the neatness and orderliness of Organic Roots. The fall flowers, zinnias and shoulder-high salvia and others form nearly a wall as one enters. It is these that compose the lovely bouquets for sale in the welcoming store. Today I’ve come for cinnamon rolls. And they are on sale! Well, it’s just for me so I still only purchase two, and then Rosetta and I chat long about the pork sausage and meats offered. Why I don’t yet shop local! I have to work on that. We stop beneath the bower, and I inquire about the beans covering it. They are an ornamental type that Rosetta planted for their show. She generously gave me a ripe pod, from which I can plant my own bean plants next year, and enjoy with delight a piece of Organic Roots.

A hug from behind, infused with a love-filled grin. And now a pair of Hamptonites has entered the store, who long ago discovered the value of shopping local that has just sprouted in my own consciousness. And the conversation picks up anew, now four joining in. I take this as my opportunity to leave, also leaving behind the conversation akin to that enjoyed by immediate family. I say I’m from here? And yet I leave this so quickly? Yes, I’m still working on my town integration. As my mom would say, I too am a ‘swamp Yankee’ and these things can come hard.

The cinnamon roll must be thawed by now, and the eggplant parm baking in my Breville oven will be ready within the hour. The sky is still cloudlessly blue, and the October warmth is slipping in through my opened windows and doors.

Thank God for small treasures!