Finding Direction in Detours

There’s a rhythm to life in Pittsford that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. It’s the kind of place where the seasons don’t just change, they announce themselves. Where fall arrives with crunchy steps and a burst of color so vivid it feels like the trees are showing off. Where winter wraps the village in a white quietness, and spring feels like a collective exhale and pop of colors.

Our home sits just outside the town, tucked into a neighborhood where kids ride bikes, people walk their dogs or jog by, and neighbors wave from their front yard like it’s still 1995. It’s the kind of place where you know which bakery has the best sandwiches and cinnamon rolls (Village Bakery), the creamiest ice-creams and butteriest croissants (Pittsford Dairy), which trails are best for walking, jogging, biking while clearing your head (hello, Erie Canal), and which library corner your teenager will curl up in with a stack of books and their cup of Starbucks.

But Pittsford isn’t just charming, it’s grounding. It’s where I’ve raised four kids in a blended, boisterous household that runs on love, logistics, and laughter. It’s where I’ve mentored city youth through Compeer, hosted exchange students through Educatius, and brainstormed HR ideas that somehow mirror the way I run my home: with structure, compassion, and a touch of chaos.

The surroundings matter too. A short drive takes you to Mendon Ponds Park, where the trails are wide and the chickadees eat from your hand if you’re patient. Head the other way and you’re in Rochester, where the arts scene hums and the lilacs bloom in May like they’ve been waiting all year to show off.

There’s Finger Lakes wine, snowy ski trails, and your runs to Wegmans turn into friend reunions.
But more than anything, Pittsford is where I’ve learned to live with both roots and wings. It’s where I’ve watched my daughters leave for college, one to fly planes, one to heal animals, and where I’ve welcomed new kids into our home, because “What’s one more?” isn’t just a motto, it’s a way of life.

Pittsford has given me a foundation of community, a rhythm of family, and a reminder that home isn’t just a place. So, whether I’m walking the canal trail with a coffee or ice cream in hand, cheering from the sidelines at a school game, or hosting one more kid at our dinner table, Pittsford continues to be the backdrop for a life filled with purpose, connection, and just the right amount of chaos.