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Lord Dudley Mountcatten likes to nap in the sun.
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He’ll happily follow the beams of light around the house and looks oh so cute doing it.
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As I was reading in the living room the other day, he snoozed in front of the television cabinet.
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So quiet. So innocent.
Until I heard a scraping sound…
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Cats.
They’re always up to something.
😉
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Of all the awful real life pickle abominations my algorithms make me view, I finally found one worth my time.
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The Pickle Sisters!
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This was just silly enough to be true…they didn’t call them the roaring twenties without reason…. but sadly it wasn’t. Further research showed it to be a complete fallacy.
Very disappointing, that.
I mean, look how beautiful they are in technicolor.
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Have you ever been asked to babysit a lemon?
I was.. and can now scratch it off the things I never thought I’d do bucket list.
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The lemon in question belongs to this little lemon tree owned and lovingly pampered by my neighbor who went out of town for a week. Though indoors, it’s a thirsty devil and requires a full pitcher of water every two days.
Living in the often frozen north, you don’t see many tropical fruit trees thriving in my state, even if they live inside… but this beauty is doing wonderfully well.
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If you look closely, you’ll see there are actually two lemons. And while I’m not sure what her plans are for these two precious pieces of citrus she’s been obsessing over for the nearly six years it’s taken for them to arrive…. but I hope it’s something special.
Never having grown a lemon tree, I was floored by the power of their blossom’s scent. It was positively divine.
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Ooh la la! I wish I could have bottled it and brought it home… but I dared not. With my luck plucking a flower would have disturbed some delicate balance and I’d be blamed for ruining the harvest.
😉
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Ox.
These big guys can be prickly,
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Like this one who head butted my husband right after I snapped a picture.
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When they’ve had enough, they let you know it in no uncertain terms.
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And standing behind them?
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Not always a good idea. Let’s just say this one had to do his business and leave it at that.
By 5:00pm, we’d been walking around the fair for 7 hours, it was raining and we decided to call it quits.
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Leaving the gate, we took a right instead of a left and opted for the long way home.
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Maine, by way of New Hampshire….
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Up and over Evan’s Notch.
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A pass cut through the White Mountains.
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Again, there was mostly muted foliage …
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And not the vivid bright colors we usually enjoy.
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But even muted, it’s lovely.
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As I mentioned earlier… the day we chose to go to the fair was overcast and gloomy, though you wouldn’t know it by the crowds.
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But as the day progressed it got darker and we were dodging raindrops by running in and out of livestock buildings.
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During a particular steady shower?
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Sheep.
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Some dressed in coats.
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The variety of wool was impressive and it was nice to find someone with curlier hair than mine for a change.
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But my favorites?
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The Jacobs with their ridiculously weird horns.
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They love a good scratch…
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But don’t tug on the headgear or you’ll get bitten.
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The little guys are so sweet.
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And while it may have been awful outside the building …
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It was dry and comfy under the big roof.
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A few days ago I posted a couple of pictures of the annual Damariscotta Pumpkin Festival. This coastal Maine town takes its giant gourds seriously with a weeks worth of celebrations that ends with the most popular event…
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The Pumpkin Regatta. We didn’t go, but it’s so delightfully quirky I have to share some of the photos I saw on the news.
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Definition of a pumpkin regatta – oddly dressed people cut big holes in oddly decorated hollowed out pumpkins and take to the water.
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Sometimes the spectators are oddly dressed as well.
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The Regatta is well attended and covered by the local media.
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A Viking Longboat?
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It’s not long, but why not?
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There was even a gnome.
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I always wonder how this tradition got started.
Who looked at a big pumpkin and thought, put an outboard on that and you’ve really got something.
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Of course some entries do it the old fashioned hand powered way. And from the look of this picture, paddling slowly is not the way to go.
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Mainers.
Ya gotta love ‘em.
🤣
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I’m pleased to report the giant lemon lemonade stand was operational at the Fryeburg Fair …
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And though it cost a ridiculous $8 per ice laden glass, I purchased one…
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To accompany the husband’s three $10 chicken fingers and $5 bottle of water. $23 for what amounted to a nibble. Welcome to the price gouging, we know you have no alternative, fair food concession stands.
Trying to make up for it, I made a beeline for my favorite fair treat…
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Which sadly was an undercooked, under spiced disappointing piece of fried dough. Boo to that.
I ate said disappointing dough in the grandstand of the pulling ring where the husband likes to watch the draft horses. I don’t enjoy this spectacle as I always feel sorry for the animals. The teams of three are expected to pull double their weight which can end up being 10,000 lbs, and while I know they’re bred and trained for this exact purpose… it still makes me cringe on their behalf.
I did however smile at this happy fellow who started the show in true Fenway Park 7th inning stretch fashion.
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If you’re not a Red Sox fan?
Never mind.
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This team was amazing. Perfectly matched and working completely in unison.
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I may not like it…
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But it’s hard not to be impressed with the strength of these magnificent creatures.
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It’s fall… and in New England that means cooler temperatures, turning leaves and pumpkins.
And no town takes pumpkins more seriously than Damariscotta, a coastal village that devotes an entire week of events to the glorious orange gourd. There are parades, size contests, art contests, races, recipe challenges and even a regatta of giant floaters.
They like their pumpkins.
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Every year we say we’re going to visit, and every year we don’t for some reason or another.
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Which is a shame because this year my favorite bar in town has the best decorated pumpkin I’ve seen in a long time.
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Imagine having a few too many and stumbling outside to come face to face with this guy.
😊
And speaking of bars…
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A seasonal margarita that sounds damn near perfect for this time of year.
Moving on, I have a bone to pick with a few of my readers. You were joking about emotional support pickles for cats on my post the other day and while I tried to discourage the topic in fear of pickle retribution from my squirrelly algorithms… the concept has become reality.
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Damn you.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten has his mice.
No kitty support pickles will ever be entering this house.
🥴
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Because it hurts less than having a tooth pulled.
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For long distances I’m going with plane.
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Even though air travel isn’t half as much fun as it used to be.
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It’s odd how much I miss those rubber chicken dinners now that all you get is a packet of dry as toast cookies.
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But while the views out the window can be spectacular, I do prefer driving when it comes to setting your own schedule and stopping at will for local points of interest. Some of the best things we’ve found and seen have been well off the beaten path.
Cruise ships? Never. Floating germ factories crammed full of people with whom I don’t want to converse no less vacation.
Trains? Like them for day trips but no cramped overnight bunks and minuscule bathrooms for this chicka.
How about you?
What’s your preferred method of travel…
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I know it’s a little soon after my last series of fair posts, but we hadn’t been to the biggest and best fair in Maine in six years and last week the husband said let’s go.
So we headed west to Fryeburg.
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This was a weird year weather wise, with way too much rain late in the summer so I despaired of finding vibrant fall color.
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Leaves were turning but in muted hues.
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Of course it didn’t help the day we picked to go was gloomy, damp and overcast.
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Still pretty, but not jaw dropping for autumn in Maine.
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Pulling in to the fair grounds parking lot you pass rows and rows ( and rows and rows and rows) of travel trailers occupying every spare inch of ground.
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It’s a virtual RV city and my idea of hell on earth, but to each their own.
Maine doesn’t have an official state fair but Fryeburg is the last of the season, as well as the biggest and the best. Paying our $15 per admission price, we entered the gate by the horses and just missed some live music.
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The band wasn’t there, but the draft horses were and that’s even better.
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Some of these fellas are unbelievably large. I tried taking a selfie behind this guy but he started to back up as I was focusing so I backed up as well. And quite quickly.
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Magic Mike was beautiful…
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As was this dappled grey I would have to name Snowflake.
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For the most part they’re gentle giants but a weeks worth of people gawking and petting would make me want to kick something too.
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The definition of chill?
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Mr. Chunk.
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River's world..... 