Yukki (Юкки́), a small village near Saint Petersburg, are where my sweetest childhood memories were formed. There are memories of summer-long family trips to the datcha; memories of freedom, of a child running free wherever eyes and heart choose to go; and memories of dreaming of eternal summer times.
Our family rented one of the two units in a guest house on a large 2 acre property. The property belonged to a noble family, and they rented their help's quarters as a summer datcha for city dwellers. The city was a heavy place to live: polluted air, lack of greenery, and nowhere for a child to roam free. At the datcha, we had everything: glades and forests, berries and mushrooms, and apples growing on trees.