Rolling emerald hills, small brooks full of carp and trout, dozens of farms scattered around the countryside, with pockets of houses placed here and there: that’s the edge of Warwick, the small town in southern New York where I spent my entire childhood growing up.
Warwick has always been a small town, far enough from NYC to have farms and a small community feel, but close enough to have people who commute and suburban areas of the town. Yet for a town with a population just over 32,000 residents, we boast a top-100 national event: Applefest. This once-small celebration of the yearly apple harvest (by far the largest agricultural staple from Warwick) now draws people from all over the globe. They come to see what a “small town” feels like, gaze up at the hills draped in a blanket of vibrant auburn, ruby, and gold colors, and smell the fresh, crisp air of autumn. Despite vastly increasing the size of the population for the few days that the event runs, everyone somehow manages to find the small town feel in the midst of the mayhem that is Applefest.
Only one day a year is devoted from my family to Applefest. The rest of the year is devoted to exploring and enjoying the natural beauty that is Warwick. From summers spent fishing by the pond and swimming in the brooks to autumnal hikes up Mt. Peter to look back down upon the valley in the majestic glow of fall, from winters spent building snow forts, ice skating, and snowboarding to springs full of new life, Warwick is the only place where I could have ever imagined growing up. Spending it with three younger brothers, three dogs, and two cats definitely made things very amusing. From trying to see who could catch the largest fish, skate across the pond the quickest, or the other things that we boys did, I grew into the man I am today. The gentle, effervescent hills forming the valley that I called home will always be the place that I live.