Chesterwood….

 

Our first full day in the Berkshires dawned a little foggy.

 

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And we saw the ever present windmills towering above the resort.

 

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Along the main road, they almost seemed to rise from the clouds.

 

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A huge blueberry Belgian waffle started my morning off right and we were soon on our way to Chesterwood.

Note – if you’re not interested in history, Abraham Lincoln, sculpture, period homes and gardens… feel free to leave now. I’m about to get my geek on.

 

 

 

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Daniel Chester French was the man who designed the Lincoln Memorial, and this was his summer home and studio in the Berkshires.

 

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You enter the estate through the converted 1800’s barn….

 

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Which serves as a visitor center and gallery for French’s work.

 

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You might recognize the Minuteman.

 

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It was rather fascinating seeing the progression of Lincoln’s immortal image come to life.

 

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And rather haunting as well.

 

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Lincoln dominates your thoughts and sight…

 

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But French was a prolific sculpture before and after his most famous work.

 

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Still awake?

 

 

Just checking.

We opted to take the guided studio and house tour even though our docent was a bit of a dolt.

 

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The studio was Italianate in design.

 

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As were the gardens…

 

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Although past their prime this time of year.

 

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The studio was full..

 

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But I won’t drone on about all that.

 

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The railroad track at the back door that was used to move the enormous pieces of art was interesting though.

 

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Hey..

If you’re still with me, bravo!

 

 

And thanks for the blogging loyalty. I’m a bit of a history nerd and find all of this quite wonderful, but I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

 

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After the studio we strolled around the gardens….

 

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And wandered a serene path through the woods.

 

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French drew inspiration from the natural world and walked the estate daily.

 

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Benches are scattered here and there…

 

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As are sculptured memorials.

Next up… the house.

Try to contain your enthusiasm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you peep?

 

We peep.

Our friends peep.

Our family peeps.

Hell, in New England there’s an entire industry devoted to people who peep.

 

 

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In Maine, we have so many people peeping the road signs actually warn of the dangers.

 

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But that’s hard to do when the leaves are so damned pretty.

 

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Driving this time of year is a joy.

 

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Even on the highways.

 

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Not that I always agree with the signs.

 

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Well, I don’t.

 

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But the husband and I are taking a week off and going on a peeping vacation.

We’re leaving tomorrow and heading for the Berkshires in northwestern Massachusetts. The husband spent part of his childhood in Northern Connecticut so we’ll be visiting there, as well as crossing the state line into New York. We’re equal opportunity peepers.

We’ll be staying at one of our timeshare resorts…

 

 

Halt!

Don’t run screaming from the room at the word timeshare. It’s not in Boca and I don’t want to sell it to you. We bought in 2 years ago on a points based system and have been loving it. ever since. We can go anywhere we want, whenever we want, as often as we want and their Last Call program can’t be beat. This particular resort condo goes for over $1,300 a week and we paid $274. You can’t argue with that.

So we’ll be having a quintessentially New England fall vacation. The Norman Rockwell kind, because Stockbridge was a favorite subject. You know the painting…

 

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We’ll be walking that street, visiting quaint villages, strolling museums and art galleries, touring historic homes, driving scenic mountain roads and yes, drinking our way through multiple states. It’s a beautiful area, we were there 2 years ago for Christmas. But everything was, well… white.

Now it will be in full color.

 

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I doubt I’ll be posting while we’re gone, unless the husband drags me into 197 antique stores in a row and I have to kill some time while he examines every last rusted piece of crap in the Berkshires.

Try not to miss me too much.

I’ll have hundreds of photos to post when I come back.

 

 

P.S.  We’re driving.

And you know what that means?

I can bring an entire bag of….

SHOES!

 

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An honest politician!

 

I received a flier in the mail the other day for a man running for the State House of Representatives.

And while I usually throw those things away, this one grabbed my attention for it’s absolute and utter honesty.

Finally! I thought….

Someone is taking responsibility for their actions.

 

 

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It explained so much!

The total lack of unicorns visiting our backyard…

 

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The fact that people still watch reality tv….

 

 

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Oh, alright.

It was really just a statement about his opponent’s outrageous claims against him and his political record.

But for a minute there..

It was nice to dream about an honest politician, right?

 

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What is it about shoes?

 

Hello, My name is River…. and I’m an addict.

There I said it.

I’m an admitted shoe-aholic.

And while it’s entirely possible I started out life like this –

 

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My love of shoes has been a constant through the years. In the past I had racks full of sexy high heeled shoes. Truly… I never met a pump or peep toe mule I didn’t like. But now, in my decrepit early 50’s with evil bunions paining my every step, you’re more likely to find sandals, sneakers and boots clogging my closet.

But that doesn’t mean I still don’t have a slight problem.

 

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So I went shoe shopping last week and bought a few pairs for fall/winter.

 

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But in my defense, I never repeated a color so that should count for something.

Grey, olive, navy, brown, putty, (yes, be quiet…that’s a color) black, and beige.

Okay….

I lied.

 

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I did buy 2 black pairs. But one was leather and one was suede.

And yes, I bought 2 beige pairs… but look. That one has lacy cutouts on the top.

And that blue pair? Well, they’re fleece lined so that’s totally different.

The brown.

Damn. I have no excuse for the brown.

But I’m an addict, remember? Shoes are my crack!

 

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There are those  ( My husband, my friends, my family, my old coworkers… alright basically everyone. You happy?)  who say I have too many shoes.

To which I reply –

 

 

Too many shoes?

Pffftt!  It’s like being too rich or too thin…. just not possible.

And please don’t raise the possibility of me returning any of my recent purchases to the store.

 

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Because it’s not going to happen.

I love me some shoes.

 

 

And clearly the universe agrees…

Because it sent me a sign in the mail today.

 

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Did I mention I also love the word free?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Color me impressed.

 

 

My favorite time of year is here and Mother Nature is putting on a show in Maine.

 

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Pockets of beautiful autumnal color are bursting forth.

 

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And almost everywhere you look, it’s gorgeous.

 

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Warm days, cool nights…

 

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Farmers markets filled with apples and pumpkins.

 

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If there’s a prettier place than autumn in New England…

 

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I’m sure I don’t know where it is.

 

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Even the dearly departed are enjoying the show.

Welcome fall!

She’s a peach.

 

Technically, she’s a Hurricane Katrina rescue dog named Peaches who belongs to the farmers across the street…. but yes, she’s a peach as well.

 

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They went out of town over the weekend so we had dog duty… which isn’t a hardship because I’m currently petless for the first time in my life due to a husband who wants to travel when he retires next year.

 

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I agree Peaches.

Boo and hiss to that.

 

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Peaches is a rough and tumble farm dog who dearly missed her father…. and spent an inordinate amount of time looking for him out the window.

 

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She couldn’t quite grasp the fact that she wasn’t allowed to cross the road and go back home…. so even though she’s a free range canine, when we had her outside she had to be tied.

 

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That didn’t go over very well…

So the first thing she did in retaliation?

 

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Yeah.

Peaches – 1.

Alvin – 0.

 

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Peaches is also the only dog I know who enjoys self flagellation.

She picks up her toys and beats herself silly. To the point where I worry she’ll hurt herself.

Naturally she only flagellated half heartedly whenever I filmed, but you get the idea.

 

 

 

Hey, whatever floats your boat.

It kept her occupied, and the chipmunk population breathed a sigh of relief.