We made four trips to NH this summer. I believe I wrote about the first trip, when we faced mice and ticks and etc in abundance. On our next trip, we were joined by friends from Brooklyn, who gamely braved the “rustic” conditions and enjoyed our laidback, do-nothing, grill-every-meal way of life out here. We returned once more in July to join Andrew’s family briefly; and then spent the rest of the weekend with Katherine and Patrick.
And we returned from our latest trip yesterday, feeling rested and happy despite getting in very late and not getting much sleep the first night. It was wonderful to be there just as the seasons are turning; the Black-Eyed Susans and daisies from our last trip were gone this time, replaced by acres of goldenrod and lots of mint gone to purple-flowered seed. We couldn’t go down to see the frogs in the pond because bees had built a nest on the dock; but Lucia loved pushing her doll in the swing in the apple tree, and Greta was thrilled to be included in whatever was going on. We found a cozy-looking animal nest in the barn; Andrew took down a gigantic wasps' nest; I found two dead mice. We bought fruits and veggies from two farm stands along the roadside. The girls explored a pumpkin labyrinth. Lucia was very sad when it was time to leave and even today keeps saying she wants to be in NH. We do, too.
This blog began in 2006, when I quit my job and sold all my furniture to move to Barcelona with Andrew, skipping town blissfully and dramatically; then we skipped town again, to California, and then, finally, back to Brooklyn. Now I'm in a rambling old house in the suburbs, with two babies and a husband and the suspicion that we won’t be skipping town again anytime soon—at least not the kind of skipping town that involves packing boxes and moving trucks.