Last June, two of my students gave me jars of homemade jam. And I felt rich in jam.

We are lucky here, with fields of pick-your-own strawberries, with farmers' market raspberries nestled in small blue boxes—but in winter, to crack open a jar and taste summer—to remember! What a gift!

I was born in Syracuse, lived there for a few years, and then we moved as a family out to Cazenovia. So any time we came into the city, it was like a big thing. I really loved that. And when we went on long car trips, and came back to the area, there was a certain curve we could come around, and I would see a green shingled building right by the road, and I would know we were almost home.

I later moved away to go to college, but I came back to Syracuse for graduate school, and I was very much interested in living downtown and in different neighborhoods. Now I live in Ithaca, so I have a different connection to the city. I come in on I-81 or Route 690. But when I come swooping around, off the exit, I still feel like I'm coming home to that essential part of Syracuse that I really relate to.