Daisies. They’re such happy little flowers, I always smile when I see them bloom. Which is why… after seeing how well this one performed… I went back to the nursery for more. See the monster plant to the left threatening to swallow the bloomer whole? That’s a daisy as well, but clearly not the same variety.
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Bee balm, in bright pink instead of the traditional red. I think the bees are confused.
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Day lilies.
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I planted this flowering bush when we first moved in over 20 years ago and damned if I can remember what it’s called.
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The blooms are positively fuzzy.
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More day lilies.
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They’re such low maintenance things it’s hard not to plant them everywhere.
It was a relatively cool evening…. and even though I won’t be comfortably perspiration free until the mercury drops and the snow falls…. the husband and I headed out to the Barn Mahal porch for an adult beverage.
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I chose one of the local Wisconsin beers our neighbor brought back from her trip. And while the can was artfully decorated with birds in flight, the Central Waters brewing company’s mango wheat tasted nothing like mangoes and was a tad disappointing.
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But the baby chuckers were on the move and we enjoyed their evening antics.
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I believe there were five in this year’s litter…
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Though it could be six because they’re everywhere you look.
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With some of them head and shoulders above their siblings.
Though we have not yet driven on our beautiful new driveway, we are walking on it.
Or rather, we humans are walking on it. Lord Dudley Mountcatten remains skeptical.
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Taking him out for a walk has meant strolling around the house on the grass and then watching him plant himself on the kitchen landing.
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Where he sits and stares.
Until yesterday…
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When he finally decided to investigate.
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Momma chuck was watching from the barn porch…
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As his Royal highness took to the tar.
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Not yet a fan of the new black expanse, His Lordship returned to the backyard and his favorite woodchuck burrow.
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This is a tunnel that runs under our bedroom bay window and I wish I was quicker with the camera because a baby chuck stuck his head out, spotted Dudley and let out a true whistle pig screech.
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As far as kitty entertainment goes, squealing woodchuck beats new driveway any old day.
In case you hadn’t guessed our recent scenic drive up the coast wasn’t random, it had a particular destination in mind.
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The often heard of, always praised… BCB.
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It didn’t fail to impress.
The place is huge.
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As advertised… it’s a giant chicken barn with the bottom floor devoted to a multi dealer antique store and the top floor home to over 200,000 books which sounded like pure heaven to me .
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We entered the building and turned left, happily strolling in and out of treasure filled booths. Husband is obsessed with old glass water jugs, but he already had this one and reluctantly put it back.
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I saw Benjamin Franklin… complete with kite.
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And the type of vintage crank phone I’ve been wanting for the man cave/Barn Mahal… though this one was in terrible shape… so there it stayed.
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The downstairs seemed to go on forever but when we were through with the left side of the barn and returned to the middle entrance to peruse the right side, the temperature started rising. ( Husband is seen here examining a wooden egg crate, but we already have 3… so I said no ) This old building has no air conditioning and it being the middle of summer… things were starting to get downright uncomfortable. For some reason the farther right you went the hotter it got so I was basically speed walking through the stalls trying to work my way back to a cooler section.
And because I don’t need any more vintage wooden crates for my vinyl record collection?
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A veritable mountain of vintage wooden crates for my vinyl record collection.
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And this … because a big chicken barn needs a randomly placed big chicken.
I’m ashamed to report I did not have the stamina to peruse the books. I climbed the large staircase, reached the top and literally couldn’t breathe for the heat. I don’t think I’m exaggerating when I say the temperature rivaled the surface of the sun. Okay, maybe that’s extreme… but honestly, it was unbearable and everyone who ascended to the second floor came right back down. I wish I’d known this before we came, I would have planned a fall or winter visit.
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We took a different route home and drove through one of the prettiest coastal towns in the state, Camden.
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We thought about lunch but the downtown area was packed solid with wall to wall tourists so we just breezed on by….
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With me wanting a hobbit doorway under our porch like this one.
We’d been given a gift card for the Broad Arrow Tavern which is located inside the Harraseeket Inn in Freeport.
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We’ve been many times before, some with good results, some with bad. It’s a lovely old place…
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But on this day, shortly after new corporate owners had taken over operations… we found it lacking.
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One admittedly decent cranberry margarita in, the husband decided the new menu was too small and contained nothing to satisfy his appetite so we headed down the road.
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To the oh so pricey but usually delightful Tuscan Bistro…. where we always sit at the bar because the husband likes to chat with someone other than me.
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I started with the strawberry sangria…
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And a few tasty crab cakes.
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Husband opted for Allagash White and savory meatballs.
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Passion fruit lemon drop martini was up next… which was when I noticed a strange bottle behind the bar.
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Dough ball? You know I had to ask.
The bartender said it was a cookie dough flavored whisky which sounded horrible, and after a sniff of the bottle I discovered it was just that. At this point the man sitting next to me said, “I used to be a dough ball in high school, maybe I should try it.” I laughed and as often happens at watering holes… we spent the next hour talking to him and his girlfriend. They were a lovely couple and I enjoyed the casual chatter while we ate.
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A grilled chicken risotto with asparagus for me, which looked good but wasn’t.
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And a glazed salmon with fingerling potatoes and garlic green beans for the husband, which didn’t look good but was.
I wasn’t going to order dessert… but it was shortly after we finished our meals that our new bar buddies noticed hubby’s USMC hat and the conversation turned to the military.
It was then I knew all was lost.
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I ate my Tiramisu by myself as the man sitting next to me discovered his father (who lives in Florida) had served in the same place at the same time as my husband. While my guy was Force Recon in Quang Tri and Dong Ha, his father was a 46 pilot ferrying Marines in and out of the area. This lead to a rather long telephone call between the two Vietnam vets…. with me twiddling my thumbs at the bar alone after the couple moved on to greener pastures. It also found me silently cursing the Marine Corps hat that in one way or another always leads to this scenario.
😉
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 