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Because wasting your time is what I do best.
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Let’s see…
I’ll arrive with Jell-O shots, jalapeño poppers and some jerky.
Not the most appetizing ensemble, but J is not the most food friendly letter.
What are you bringing?
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Let’s play.
The New Portland wire bridge.
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On our road trip to the Carrabassett Valley we saw a sign for a bridge.
But not just any bridge, no…
The Wire Suspension Bridge spanning the Carrabassett River in New Portland is a unique structure, the only survivor of four such bridges built in Maine in the 1800’s and probably the only such bridge still standing in the United States.
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Built in 1866, it’s definitely unique.
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The bridge was renovated in 1961, when the tower bases were capped with concrete, the towers were rebuilt, steel suspender rods were replaced by steel cables, and a new timber deck was installed. The tower framing timbers and main support cables are the original material. The span between towers is 198 feet.
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As you walk across it you can feel it sway .
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And when you watch a car drive across it the wood literally bends under the weight.
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Under the archway?
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Floor to ceiling graffiti.
Boo to that.
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Yay for autumn color though.
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An engineering marvel in its day….
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It’s stood the test of time and is still in use 158 years later.
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😊
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When you need some squashed cider ….
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Every fall I have to make a pilgrimage.
And while I used to drive to South Berwick, Maine this year I had to drive farther … down to Dover, New Hampshire because the cider I crave has moved in to larger new digs.
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This is small batch hard cider and has a very limited distribution range. Even if I do manage to find an elusive 4 pack in a store up our way, it’s never the seasonal flavors I want.
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With that many varieties, we had to do a flight.
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Which made me add a melon crush and a ginjah baby to the three packs of squashed I brought home. .
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You’re looking at $90 worth.
The prices make me gasp every time… $18 a four pack, which is $4.50 per can.
Insane.
But then so is the apple-y goodness.
😉
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Autumn splendor.
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As I said before, the fall color in my area has been less than spectacular this season. Not wanting to miss the full glory of a Maine autumn, we headed north for some serious leaf peeping.
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Ah, that’s better.
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The Carrabassett Valley rarely disappoints.
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I have a friend who hates the fall and sees the changing of the leaves as a sign of death. She says it’s depressing because it means winter is right around the corner.
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Winter is coming, ‘tis true, but the last gasp of nature’s beauty before the temperatures plummet is a show I never want to miss.
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And no, that’s not dirt on my lens, they’re falling leaves.
❤️
To be continued…
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Undoing all the chucker’s hard work.
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My husband needed something in the little storage room at the back of our garage the other day.
We rarely use it, but the woodchucks certainly do.
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It was all he could do to open the door…
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And even that required a shovel.
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From one little access point, they sure did make a mess.
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Once things were removed we found this:
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Tiny shredded strips of a tarp that used to be whole.
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An entire morning was spent putting things right.
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And not without my husband spouting a few choice words for our furry little digging friends.
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🥴
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More from new favorite wild haggis FB page.
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I’m sorry, but I seriously love this silly group of people and their irreverent haggis sightings.
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For those of my non Scottish friends, the definition of haggis is as follows:
Traditionally, a Haggis is made from the lung, liver, and heart of the sheep. These are mixed with oatmeal and a few spices and stuffed into the sheep’s stomach. After being boiled, the Haggis is brought to the table with a great deal of ceremony. A piper ushers in the Haggis and all raise a glass of Scotch whiskey and “brrreath a prrayerr for the soul of Rrrobbie Burrrns!” It is then served with “neeps and nips,” mashed turnips and nips of whiskey. I think you have to drink a lot of Scotch before you can truly enjoy this dish, but a party of Scots without a Haggis is simply not heard of.
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While I proudly lay claim to Scots ancestry, I cannot honestly say I’ve ever enjoyed their much beloved national dish.
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But that doesn’t stop me from chortling over the continued quest to spot the elusive wild haggis.
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Wily creatures, those haggi.
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Ouch!
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😳
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❤️
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A serious case of wagon envy.
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The antique transportation museum is always a favorite at the Fryeburg Fair.
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They have some truly amazing, well restored vehicles.
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Beautiful, but I can’t imagine traveling across country in one.
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Even back then they knew discussing politics and religion was a sure way to ruin a journey.
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Sharing your bottle on the other hand, is a sure way to make instant friends.
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My husband always has wagon envy when walking around this building.
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Or maybe he just wanted a beer.
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I loved this little Swedish ice sleigh. Wife on the seat in front, husband in back.
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A hearse, complete with laying out table.
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I hustled my spouse right past this sign before he could read it.
One antique carriage in our shed is more than enough.
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Outside, we found this one… which is very similar to the one he bought, though in a bit better shape.
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News you can’t use.
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And even if you could, you wouldn’t want to.
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No more nanas?
Say it isn’t so…
🥺
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And to think we only spent $30,000 redoing ours.
What a deal…
🥴
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I can honestly say this is s a situation I’ve never had to stress over.
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Wombats rock.
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They rock, and apparently can use their butts like rocks. You have to love that.
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Cruise ships are floating germ factories.
And what’s up with the constant gastro distress? Is Chipotles doing their catering now…
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Strange viewing..
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My husband’s television viewing habits are usually limited to news, westerns and classic cinema but every once in a while I’ll walk by and be surprised.
The other day I saw this…
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And had to do a double take.
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Yes, that’s a disembodied head in the background.
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The doctor’s wife’s head to be precise.
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Is it any wonder I escape to the den to read?
🤣
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Cow!!
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Being that I’m the annoying person on road trips who always announces cow! when one is passed, you know I thoroughly enjoyed the bovine section of the fair.
Cows of every size, shape and color were on display and I was a happy camper.
This is Fred.
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We petted Fred and Fred didn’t mind.
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This prize winner was sectioned off with multiple warnings not to touch. And as hard as that was… his coat was delightful!…even my has to touch everything husband obeyed.
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There were stocky legged cows…
( I feel you buddy, I really do)
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And Oreo cows…
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And tufted ears cows.
Isn’t that the sweetest!
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I did feel sorry for this particular cow.
Poor thing had the worst name ever.
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This next lady also had a do not touch sign.
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And with those horns it was easy to comply.
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Want to feel small?
Spend some time in the ox barn.
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Room with a view.
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Cow!
❤️
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River's world..... 