The Joy of Spontaneity

While drinking our morning coffee, my hubby suggested we do something spontaneous.  Since spontaneity isn't in his vocabulary, I was a little leery of the suggestion.  "Let's head up to 104." Route 104 is a northern route running east and west across the top of the New York State near Lake Ontario.

Since we were already planning to drive to our son's place in upstate, I figured he wanted to go, immediately.  I was both right and wrong.  "We can take our time driving and stay somewhere along the way." 

"And, I can stop and take pictures along the way?"  He nodded and smiled which made me a very happy camper. We hurried, threw a few things in the suitcase, arranged for our neighbor to get the mail, and headed north. 

As we drove, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded us.  Having only been back for under two months, there was a freshness all around.  "The one thing I pray is that none of this will ever become mundane," I shared.  More than anything, I hoped that taking pictures would keep that from happening.  I wanted that sense of adventure always to stay alive.

I knew I couldn't stop for everything that caught my eye, but I wanted to.  The small town architecture, the fruit orchards, and the quirkiness that comes with small town living, kept this photographer on her toes.  My hubby even made several efforts to turn around, so I could take a picture of something he saw.

We finally turned off 104 and made our way, northward towards the St. Lawrence Seaway.  We pulled off the main road in hopes of catching a scenic view. It was nothing more, but a boat slip that didn't offer anything of real interest.  That is, until I looked down.

We continued on towards Alexandria Bay, and decided it was a good stopping point. We settled on a small hotel near the main street, and then to find a place to eat dinner.  

On the way into town, we'd seen a banner advertising music in the park.  It took us a little searching to find it, but when we did, we were offered a gorgeous view of the St. Lawrence.

In the distance, the Boldt Castle was fading into the early evening shadows.  As we left, and headed back to our motel, the words of Steven Stills, Pure Prairie League, and the Allmans Brothers lingered behind.