My parents, especially my mom, taught me to love picnics! Before I was of school age, on the first warm day of spring Mom would exclaim, “Let’s have a picnic!” Reinforced with some sandwiches, homemade cookies, and chocolate milk, we would “hike” out to our favorite big rock in the side yard to celebrate the first picnic of the year! Mom made sure our picnics continued all summer long, even into the brisk days of autumn.
You can google the word or “Webster” it, but my own personal definition of a picnic is to pack a meal, go somewhere other than your house, and eat that meal outside.
One summer weekend when I was 8 or 9 years old, my dad announced we were going on a picnic to Jamison City. Now, even as a child I had absolutely no affinity for cities. I couldn’t believe he was even considering a picnic in a city! “Wait until we get there,” Dad chuckled reassuringly in answer to my indignant protests, “I think you will like it.” He was right! Jamison City is a lumber camp ghost town at the foot of Red Rock Mountain past Ricketts Glen. That day in the 1950s, we poked around the ancient brick chimney of the old tannery, ate lunch seated on some leftover hemlock logs resting in the weeds, played in the creek, and located the faint foundation my dad had remembered HIS dad showing him of his grandfather’s cabin home. Over the years I have regarded Jamison City, Ricketts Glen, World’s End State Park, and, indeed, anywhere in the gamelands of Sullivan County as Perfect Picnic Places.
In the early 1970s, Joe and I made our first trip to Maine and fell in love with its rockbound coast. For over 40 years, we made the trek through New England up to Mount Desert Island every single year, many times twice a year, and once even three times, as one October we set up our tent in a snowstorm! As an artist, I painted every day, sold my art in several locations, and became close friends with the owners of each gift shop and gallery. Until the year 2000, one could catch the mailboat to Cranberry Island, purchase edibles at the island’s general store, and spend the day exploring hidden lanes and beaches on the small, private island. We enjoyed many picnics balanced on coastal rocks, enjoying the cool Maine breezes on our skin. After the events of September 11, 2001, the world changed, even on our beloved Cranberry Island. NO TRESPASSING signs appeared here and there and one could no longer walk down to the back beach, stroll Mink Brook Road, or adventure out to Crow’s Island at low tide. Yet some of my best picnic memories are from the coast of Maine because we always camped, spending every day outside so I could paint!
In the 1990s during my days painting with members of the Pennsylvania En Plein Air Society, we met on Susquehanna River banks and bridges from Tunkhannock to Bloomsburg and I discovered awesome picnic places! Standing at my easel, I often wielded a brush in one hand and something edible in the other… a wonderful combination picnic and paint-out! I learned that the river is a funnel for pleasant breezes, even on the hottest days! When I began to paddle a canoe with my friend and fellow artist, Peggy Davidson, I truly learned to love the Susquehanna and its moods, highs and low water levels, in all seasons. We painted and picnicked on small, deserted, isolated river islands and at river access points from Laceyville to Towanda, and far beyond.
At every single picnic area, we were careful to “take nothing but pictures,” (paintings or photos!) and “leave nothing but footprints.” We always tried to leave as few of those as possible.
Ever wonder where the word “picnic” came from? I did, and found that its derivation is somewhat of a mystery! It could be from the French pique-nique. Then again, it could be from the German word picknick. Originally, it meant an indoor feast like our pot-luck dinners where many people contributed to the event. It was the British who decreed that a picnic was to be held strictly outdoors, an event of relaxed, innocent, family fun. The Italians called it al fresco… keep it cool!
Do you like picnics? We are blessed to have many wonderful picnic places InSide the Back Mountain, such as Frances Slocum State Park, Ricketts Glen, specially sponsored events, or even our own backyards! Where’s your favorite picnic place? Wherever it may be… enjoy!
This article originally appeared in the July 2024 publication of InSide the Back Mountain.