We used to visit our grandparents all the time when we were little. For quite some time, they lived just 20 minutes away from our home in Los Gatos. Emily and I loved to spend the night there and ride horses, run wild with their two dogs (which we called our own) and have Grandpa Ralph read us the tale of Little Hiawatha before jumping into the trundle bed at night.
When we got a bit older, they moved up to Quincy, California (with a brief stint near the Delta in-between). It was heaven. We couldn’t wait until summer, when we could spend a week in the bright mountain sunshine, riding horses to the river, diving into snow-melt swimming holes and swinging wildly from rope swings in the oak trees.
Of course, the inevitable happened. We got even older, and life caught up with us. College, boyfriends, work and city living made it more and more difficult to make the drive up to Quincy. But I missed it — and my grandparents — dearly. So last weekend, my sister and I snagged my mom’s car and made the tricky 4 hour trek through the winding Feather River Canyon up to Quincy.
I loved coming up here in the summer, but Fall is definitely the most beautiful time of year in Quincy. All of the black oak trees turn the most brilliant shades of gold, orange and red.
On Saturday, my grandparents took us on a walk near their house, where they take Dakota (their adorable mini-Aussie) every day.
The ground was littered with little gems of gold leaves from the trees.
Two of Dakota’s friends came too: Cedar, the chocolate lab who loves to hold rocks and branches in her mouth, and Trooper, the ranch dog from down the street.
After our walk, we let Grandpa Ralph off the hook from hanging out with the ladies, and went to downtown Quincy. I was snapping pictures left and right — it looks like a dream. I kept on thinking about Star Hollow (the town from Gilmore Girls) (I know, I’m a dork).
Really though — we don’t get colors like this in the Bay Area.
We went and popped in to the Quincy Museum, which was kind of amazing. They’ve restored an old house from the early 19th century to its original condition. It was quite a trip seeing all the crazy mechanisms (we were dying over the clothes washing situation — what a nightmare) you needed to get through daily life back then.
My grandparents have collected some of the most amazing things over the years. My grandma’s walls are covered with her own (beautiful) artwork, photos of her parents and drawings by us. I loved this little wall of my grandpa’s collections in the garage, too.
After dinner on Saturday (and some red wine), we ambled down to the saloon at the nearby ranch for a nightcap. My sister and I both got whiskey gingers, and my grandpa got a red eye. Both felt very appropriate considering our surroundings.
I’d been looking forward to this trip for a while, but it’s funny, I didn’t realize how much I missed my grandparents (and Quincy) until I got there. Both are full of so many fond memories, and feel so comforting to me. I already can’t wait to go back.
Grandma, let’s go for a trail ride next time, okay?