My husband has a bad habit of leaving the little barn/shed doors open in the summer. He thinks he’s airing it out and cooling it off but in actuality all he’s doing is this:
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Giving momma and baby chucks another area to explore.
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And chew.
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They seem to enjoy it.
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Though if they start chewing tractor wires my husband may have to rethink this habit.
Next up on my things to do in Maine before the husband goes back to work bucket list was Old Fort Western. It’s one of those landmarks we drive by often but never take the time to explore.
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Old Fort Western in Augusta is the oldest surviving wooden fort in the United States. It started life as a trading post, then a manned station during the French and Indian war, and then a store supplying early settlers.
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In 1775 Benedict Arnold started his expedition to capture Quebec from this fort. Arnold’s party, which included future Vice President Aaron Burr, stayed at the fort before marching north.
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For a time it was a private home and now, a historic site.
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The day we visited there were a few reenactment soldiers in period dress on loan from Plymouth Plantation in Massachusetts.
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You know my husband enjoyed this part.
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Though they wouldn’t let him fire it for safety reasons.
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I love history and totally geeked out during the guided tour.
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Strategically placed on the highest navigable point on the Kennebec River…
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It guarded the colonists well and was never attacked.
My maternal grandparents moved back to Austria before I was born and we never visited. My paternal grandfather died when my father was 10 years old, so I certainly never knew him. And though I was 3 when my paternal grandmother died, I have absolutely no memory of her either.
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I’m told this is a picture of her standing in the backyard rose garden of this house….
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But honestly, neither the person nor the house stir any warm fuzzies in my prefrontal cortex.
When my mother died almost a decade ago we took a trip back to my hometown in New Jersey. The state gets a bad rap, and though most of it is well deserved… there are some lovely areas scattered here and there and thankfully I grew up in one.
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We walked north of town…
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Along the river….
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And found my grandparent’s house.
Still in the thick of early grief for my mother, I stood outside this nicely restored and clearly well loved home and cried. The new owners saw me, came outside to investigate and warmly welcomed us … complete strangers! …. inside for a full three story tour.
Don’t believe everything you hear about people from Jersey. This couple was grace personified.
We exchanged stories and histories and they were very sweet to an only child who had just lost her mom. The new owners expressed interest in my old family photos of the house and I promised to email them when we got back home.
So while I don’t have any grandparent memories of this particular house?
I do have nice new memories of the compassionate and caring young couple who live there now…. and that’s fine with me.
An hour and a half in and we were still exploring.
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Which is where we found this mini pyramid.
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It’s basically the same kind of stone my husband used to build my garden bed last year so I suggested perhaps he could build me one of these this year.
He pretended he didn’t hear me, but my memory is long and I have patience.
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Every now and then there was a bench.
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But we were always moving and didn’t dawdle.
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Dappled shade is good for ferns. Add soil too wet to walk over and it’s damn near perfect.
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I have to say I was looking forward to the rhododendron section of the trail. A forest full of rhodies?
Bring it!
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If you’re wondering why the husband looks slightly puzzled? It’s because we were right in the middle of the supposed rhododendron section but didn’t know it.
After doing a 360, you can see why we were confused.
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One bloom does not a collection make.
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Onward. To the pond…
To be continued.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.