on the ‘savory’ (food) table,
the writing table,
on the stairs, tucked in the china cupboard,
and in the bar
. Those candles, plus the blazing, warm fire, created a welcoming effect.
There were over a hundred people coming and going, pulling up a chair or a bench by the fire,
and partaking of our fare. 
and answered colonial questions and engaged the guests in conversation. It was a lovely evening, and very well received by the entire company. At one point there were about 15 people huddled together by the fire, newly introduced to each other, sharing drinks and stories and enjoying the ambiance. The militia was standing by outside the door, ready to escort guests up the path to the new gift shop, where cookies and spiced tea were served as they browsed the beautiful display of gifts and souvenirs. 
Once our guests had left, and the tavern cleaned up and put back to rights, the militia and the hostesses carried their lanterns to the buildings and made sure everything was locked up. 
In addition to brewed drinks, there were freshly baked cookies and pies and pastries and breads and sandwiches. The sweet aroma was just too much to resist, so Kath and I each got a cookie almost the size of Boston Harbor and sat at a table overlooking the harbor as we ate. It might be a little early for lunch, but that was lunch! Very filling, very tasty, and it melted in our mouth!
Candlelight Open House at the Tavern
Friday evening Hanna’s Town hosted the town at a candlelight open house at the historic tavern. The log building was decked out to be cozy and inviting, and at the stroke of 4pm it opened it’s doors to the public. I remember reading that several dozen candles in the Palace Ballroom (Williamsburg Virginia) resulted in it being ‘well lit’. Our dozen or so candles created the same effect. There were candles on the mantle,
Our hostessses served cheese cubes and dipping mustard, gherkins (pickles), ham, Trail bologna, corn muffins, beer bread with melted cheese, meatballs in sweet and sour sauce, and a variety of crackers. Beer and wassail, ginger ale and cider were served in the bar. Lisa positioned herself by the fire
I was excited to be part of the evening.
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A walk at Lynch
This past week I had a meeting at Hanna’s Town, and since it was an unseasonably warm 70* day, I decided to swing into Lynch Field for a jaunt around the track. I had been inspired by a little cluster of colored leaves on my back patio
and
decided to immerse myself in a little fall. It had been a while since I had been at Lynch, and I forgot about the army helicopter and the playgrounds and how many sports fields there are down there. The maintenance guys were working on the Veterans Pool complex, and I hadn’t been THERE since I was in high school. I didn’t even realize there was a giant slide into the deep end. But as I walked I enjoyed the gurgling
of the little creek along the path,
and the displays of leaves and trees and foliage.
I especially liked the Willow Trees 
along the back corner beside Route 119.
My favorite part of the walk was looking up at the huge Colonial house that had once belonged to a friend of mine’s grandmother. 
When Carol and Mike lived there, years ago, we would all gather up at the house (now the humane society) on the Saturday night of the Greensburg Community Days fireworks. The year that Nate was old enough to help direct parking in their lower yard he felt like a million bucks – and even made a few of those bucks as a reward for a job well done. He was beyond excited. We all took snacks and munchies to share, and blankets and chairs to sit on, and lounged back after dark to watch the fireworks burst over head into the clear night sky. Some happy memories back then, gathered with friends.
By the time I had finished the end of the mile walk, the temperature had dropped about ten degrees, the sun had lost itself in the gray clouds, and the wind was swirling the leaves around me as I hurried to the car. It was a good walk, a good clearing of the mind, and a good walk down memory lane. It spanned several decades, from swimming there as a teenager, to taking the kids and even grandkids ice skating, and watching fireworks on the front lawn. I won’t wait quite so long to take that walk again!
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Saltsburg Historical Society
Last Thursday I was the guest speaker at the monthly meeting of the Saltsburg Historical Society. It was such a quaint little town, almost familiar; I felt like I had been there before. I was able to catch a ride over with Mary Ellen, whose knowledge and passion for the town and its history captivated me as we drove through the streets. She had a narrative of the houses and streets and buildings and even the waterways that border the town that would inspire anyone to absolutely love history!
Our first stop after the little driving tour was the Point Street Tavern,
which obviously was part of the town’s historic charm. It’s one of those towns where everyone knows everyone else, where the food is great, and the atmosphere is relaxing and fun. After our meal, we walked the half-block to the little stone museum. 
I was amazed when I stepped through the old-fashioned screen door, the kind with the spring that pulled the door shut and the bar diagonal across the screen to keep it from being pushed against. I was amazed by the display of artifacts that depicted the life of Saltsburg back in the days when it was a thriving town, one that laid a claim to fame because of the salt mines. In the entrance hall beside the staircase sat a display of period hats
– my cousin Gail would have swooned over those. To the left was a cozy parlor, warm and inviting. 
To the right was a receiving room, of sorts, displaying furniture and clothes and blankets, dolls and dough bowl and dishes.
I browsed around in there soaking up all the artfully displayed items.
Walking straight on through the door were two more rooms, and the items there were too numerous and diverse to even recount. Everything from toys to military uniforms and high school yearbooks and dioramas of of the town’s layout. I was immediately taken by the antique typewriter (The Saltsburg Press- we’ve come a long way!). There was too much to even take in.
The meeting consisted of society finances and end-of-year plans, plus presentations of plaques to two local churches erected in the later 1800’s. After business was concluded, it was my turn. I took time to introduce my writing history, the premise of Letters to Mary, and all the research required to present accurate facts in the book.
The presentation was very well received and I knew everyone was walking away with a bit of information and even encouragement to do family and community research for themselves. I sold several books while the group wandered through the rooms, 
munching on desserts and trying unsuccessfully to open two bottles of wine! By the time we cleaned up and packed up and headed back to Greensburg it was after 9pm. Twice we had to slow our drive, giving right-of-way to two very determined deer who took up more than their share of the road. The first one was a very large buck, extremely intimidating.
By the time we reached where my car was parked, I had learned a number of historical facts, had been encouraged and congratulated regarding Letters to Mary, and had met new friends, including Mary Ellen. I really enjoyed my evening, my lessons, and the kindness of everyone I met. It was a great evening – I love playing in the ‘gardens’ of history!
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Smicksburg Fall Festival 2019
Even though the day was not sunny and bright, it was warm and dry and was an easy drive. Teresa and I left after church and headed to Smicksburg to play in their Fall Festival.
All the shops and buildings were open except for the Smicksburg Country Store (really missed getting cheese and a yummy hot dog, Donna!). Before we actually got there, though, we stopped at Yoder’s Pop Up Shop / aka Smicksburg Retreat Center. I have to say that it is a wonderful resource for crafters, quilters, writers, or just friends who want to get away for the weekend. Plenty of room, modern amenities, and darling guest room. Check it out! 
We parked and walked up the street to the pottery,
where the owner was making a bird. I was amazed that she could look at a blob of clay and see an beautiful piece of art. I saw a blob of clay. The fall adornments in the yards were cute and inviting.
We went next to the Primitive Peddler. 
The first thing we noticed in there was the wonderful aroma of butter-popcorn. We walked around the store munching (sorry about the pieces that fell under the display racks!). If I had an extra two rooms in my house I could have bought a few dozen items. Alas. My favorite store is always The Drying Shed. 
The aroma that hits you when you enter is from the huge bins of potpourri. This time of year it is fall fragrances, like pumpkin and cinnamon and apple. The clever use of berry garlands and small glowing twinkle lights brought out the fall displays to their fullest. The lantern displays on the second floor sparkled in the lights and snowy glitter.
Across the street at the Country Cupboard there were kitchen gadgets, little stuffed animals in a huge basket, and best of all: fudge samples! The chocolate walnut was my choice – ummm good. Another pottery shop was a few houses down, and the proprietor was watching the Steeler game. She also spent several minutes showing us her beautiful hand painted bowls and mugs featuring her pet bunnies. Apparently she has had several. They have their own room, their own bed, and always watch TV with her on the couch. They also loved stuffed bunnies to play with. Who would have thought.
The Heritage Center is a small museum, featuring items donated by the town folks and those in the surrounding area. There were several items donated by my Aunt Joan, including her upright piano.
We saw pictures and furniture spanning two centuries, and read articles about the McCormick Mansion and the very prevalent Amish community. And speaking of Amish, we spent several minutes walking through the Amish furniture and craft store. I’m half-heartedly looking to replace a china cupboard and was dream shopping through all the delightful aisles. A few more stores and an old schoolhouse antique shop, 
and we’d spent three hours browsing Smicksburg.
And of course, although we had a great time looking through all the shops, the comments, conversation, and friendship we share when we spend time together was the real delight of the afternoon. We had dinner at Valley Dairy in Blairsville, and their fish sandwich and sweet potato fries were the whipped cream on the top of the adventure. I can’t think of a better way to spend any day than in a place very close to my heart with a friend who is equally so.
Already looking forward to the next outing.
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Home – Sunday June 23rd
On the road by 7:30am after breakfast at McDonalds. Made great time getting back. Stopped at the Dillweed
for a quick break to stretch our legs, have a drink, and chat with Kyra and Debbie. It was like we were long lost friends. They made us feel so welcome. We chatted about the trip and shared mutual Boston stories. I dropped Kathy off at 10 Seneca Drive at 11:30am. We parted with hugs and mingled tears; such a blessing – the sisters saw that it was indeed the Very Best of Good! Safe and sound and filled to the brim with love and memories and adventures under our belt and in our hearts. And then, Wren Drive. 
It took hours to unload the car and put everything away. Lots of laundry, 
lots of memories to sort through. Food and snacks to put away. The grass was out of control, so I cut the grass, then washed the car. I could not return the generously shared Honda back to Smail’s in its road-coated, bug smeared condition. I was definitely home.
As I crawled into my comfy bed I thought about the week, and how I had started my 69th year with a grand adventure with my best friend in the world (love you sis!). I was looking at my last week of work at Smail Automotive after 52 years there. Autmn had just got hired for her very first job on the eve of my retirement. So much emotion, so many changes. I am filing them away in my little memory book, so I can go back over them and relive them time after time.
Each time Kath and I take a road trip together, I think it was the best one yet. And Newport, Boston, and Plymouth WERE the best. Where will we go next? Back to Williamsburg? 
Down to Savanah or Charleston? Back to Newport? It doesn’t matter where we go. 
We can go to Smicksburg and have a wonderful time together. 
But exploring and experiencing new and well-familiar places — well, there’s nothing better. Thanks, Kathy, for another wonderful vacation.
And by the way, I have enough money saved and can be packed in a half an hour. Where to next? The evening and the morning will be the BEST day – and the sisters will say, “It’s VERY good!”
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Plimoth Plantation – Saturday June 22nd part two
The drive was short, and we arrived just as the plantation was opening. We watched the movie about the first settlers and about the rebuilding of the site. The Wampanoag Indians, we learned, were native, and practiced their tribal traditions and way of life. 
They were not interpreters or actors. We saw summer quarters, winter quarters, gardens, animal furs of rugs, blankets and clothing, beads, and canoes being burned out. They were burned to hollow the tree, not carved. The tribal matriarch shared her stories and demonstrated her belt making.
I took Kathy’s picture in front of the winter quarters. 
It seemed that if we got a photo in front of one of the Gilded Newport Mansions, which were summer cottages, we had to get one for winter, too. She said after ‘paying that much’ for a summer home, the winter hut was all they could afford! Fun!
We walked through the craft building, where trades people were demonstrating their skills. It was very exacting and time-consuming and took great patience and a steady hand, neither of which I possessed!
When we reached the top of the path and rounded the bend, we came to the meeting house for the settlers. Stepping out the other side was amazing. The road (really a narrow path) led from the meeting house down to the water’s edge. You could see nothing but water as far as you looked. 
On each side of the path were replicas of original buildings. Costumed interpreters told their stories, about their trip from England, about their families, about their lives once they arrived in the new world. I was very surprised at the ornate and quality furniture pieces in each house.
We chatted a while with the ‘doctor’, well versed in treating patients with the common ailments of the day with the herbs and plants from her very large garden. 
There was a very funny interpreter who told stories about typical ancestral traditions passed down through generations. There were goats and chickens roaming free; 
there were cows and horses in fenced-in yards. One house was set up for the children to role play, complete with toys and clothing of the day.
Again, it was hard to leave. We left so much ‘unlearned’ behind. A quick peek in the museum and a stroll through the gift shop, and we were once again back in the car with Cordelia heading us southwest, back to PA; back home.
About 3:30pm we were chatting away (as we always do when we travel together) when we saw a sign that said ‘Old Sturbridge Village’ six miles. Kathy did a quick search and found that we were 20 minutes away and the Village was only open until 5pm. And the cost was very steep, which made sense as it was booked as an all day adventure. It was very hard not to turn off at that exit, but we determined that if we (no, I mean WHEN we) went back to Newport, we would try to work Sturbridge Village into the plans.
Going back across the mountains gave us very limited exits with motels and/or gasoline. I was getting low again, and I hate it when that happens! We finally chose an obscure exit near Bloomsburg and filled the gas tank, then inquired as to a motel. We found a very (and I mean VERY) basic, but safe and clean motel and didn’t even try to keep looking. We ate dinner at Denny’s, settled in for the night, and breathed a sigh – whether of relief or resignation I don’t know. Newport, Boston, and Plimoth were all behind us; home was in front of us. And the evening and the morning were the fifth day; and the sisters saw that is WAS good…
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Plymouth Rock Saturday June 22nd
The welcome sunshine peeked in our windows early Saturday morning. We had our yummy toast, packed up the room, and lugged the luggage down three flights of stairs. It was NOT any easier than going up. We were on the road in good time, heading for Plymouth Rock, MA. Kath tried to prepare me for what to expect, but it was a glorious drive, beautiful sky, calm blue waters.
As we pulled into the tiny town I glanced out my window. It was breathtaking! The little sailboats bobbing on the glassy water; the bright blue sky and the puffy white clouds. Sunshine reflecting off sails and sea and stones.
It was very early in the morning, still, and there were very few people milling about. We parked right across from the pillared structure that housed Plymouth Rock. 
I walked across the road, through a bit of sand, and peered down. The rock was decidedly much smaller than I had pictured, and quite a ways back from the water. “1620” was emblazoned across the rock. 
I had read somewhere that Plymouth Rock is America’s most unimpressive national monument. Although I understood why, I didn’t agree. Just standing there in the bright breezes touched me deeply. This was America, right in front of me. And I loved it.
After a few pictures we walked the paths around the bay. The Mayflower (reproduction) was out for maintenance – so we’re pretty sure that was the ship we saw anchored across Mystic Harbor. Just as we started back the path, the gift shops opened and we browsed around there, buying postcards and little magnets.
I felt like I didn’t want to leave. This vacation was like rock-hopping. Everything was wonderful, but there was still the NEXT thing. In this case, Plimoth Plantation.
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BOSTON ALL DAY! Friday June 21st
Sunshine and toast! Great way to start the day. Kath and I wore our Boston shirts, hand made especially for our trip by my daughter Kelly, through her business PLC Designs. The shirts said: Americans – spilling tea since 1773. 
Our first stop was the Boston Tea Party museum and ships. It was by far my favorite stop in Boston (other than the actual Freedom Trail). We attended a town meeting, and understood why the good citizens of Boston found it necessary to disguise themselves as Indians (we were all given a feather to put in our hair.
Of course no one would recognize us now!).
The Sons of Liberty, aka a very rowdy and determined group of ‘Indians,’ made our way down the planks onto the ship, where we threw boxes of tea into Boston Harbor. 
The captain was very cooperative and didn’t even try to dissuade 
us. He even gave us a tour of the ship,
and explained the workings of the British East India Company, and we saw for ourselves the boxes and bails of tea stacked in the hold.
The museum had talking hologram picture frames that came to life in front of our eyes. There was a skit of two women talking about the part their husbands had played in the rebellion, and at the end the women just disappeared into thin air! However did they DO that? There is actually a wooden box that survived the dumping of the tea in 1773. Interesting story attached to it as well. Consider how long that wooden tea chest has survived! We also saw a 15 minute movie detailing not only the Tea Party but Paul Revere’s ride. (Again – check the facts. The poem is not entirely accurate!).
When we finally came above ground again, we were in Abigail’s Tea Room.
Reluctantly we left the harbor
and headed back up to the trail.
Our first stop was the Old Meeting House,
where we looked at displays and eavesdropped on a school tour to pick up interesting facts.
From there we went to King’s Chapel,
and it was by far the most informative and interesting site on the trail. We spent a lot of time in there.
We climbed the bell tower of Old North Church, 
visited Copps Hill Burying Ground, took a long hike up to Bunker Hill,
(see view of city from monument), 
toured the USS Constitution, 
then walked the entire trail – 2 ½ miles – from Bunker Hill and headed back to the Boston Commons. We went back to Quincy Market and had Boston Pizza for a late afternoon meal before finishing up the final sites. 
We found the old Corner Bookstore, and it was more than unique – with huge shelves of books, row after row, outside on the street!
You couldn’t be in Boston and not at least go past Cheers! and take a photo. So …. 
Boston Commons was a welcome sight. We were happy to reach the Longwood Inn and settle in for the night. Boston was an amazing, wonderful, historic, welcoming, comfortable city. It felt strange to think of leaving in the morning after only two days, but we had a glorious time. Boston, she was a sweet lady! And the evening and the morning were the fourth day, and the sisters saw that it was very good indeed!
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BOSTON at last! Thursday June 20th
Although it remained cloudy, we were cheered by our hot drinks and hearty breakfast, and set Cordelia on a direct route to Boston. At one point she took us off the interstate into a small town, weaving us in and out of side streets and turning left and right every other block. Whatever was she DOING? But when we swung back onto the ramp for the interstate right outside of downtown Boston, we saw why she had taken us around. Traffic was bumper to bumper – four lanes – into the city, through construction, crazy traffic. Although we were impatient – so close yet so far away! – we were finally in BOSTON!
I could hardly believe it. A dream come true; something to check off my bucket list. After one missed turn, we found the underground parking garage at Boston Commons, geared up for the day, and set off for the visitor’s center on Boston Commons to sign up for our walking tour of the Freedom Trail.
And just so you know. The Freedom Trail is definitely a trail.
It is a bi-color brick path that starts at the Commons and ends at Bunker Hill – some 2 and a half miles – and twists through downtown Boston past the amazing historic sites and churches and cemeteries and houses and buildings. I loved following this – it felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I was walking where John Adams, Paul Revere, patriots that gave everything they had to make this country great, had lived and walked. But back to the tour. We had a wonderful tour guide. 
She was young and spirited and full of life and information. We heard stories about Paul Revere’s ride (truth or fiction? Read up!), 
stopped at Old North Church, explored the cemetery in the drenching downpour of rain,
and acted out the Boston Massacre.
(Two circular brick photos depict the site.) I felt breathless and excited and in total awe.
At the end of that adventure, which was almost two hours, we went to the Quincy Market 
and got lunch. It’s like a giant food court from the mall; if Quincy Market didn’t have it, it didn’t exist! Kathy had a Lobster Roll and I had a very juicy delicious burger right off the grill. By the time lunch was over, we had dried off enough to trace our steps back and visit the inside of the places our tour guide had taken us past. One of my favorites was Paul Revere’s house. 
He was an amazing man – a dentist, an industrialist, a patriot – he had a LOT of kids and outlived most of them.
By this time we were pretty much at the end of our day – worn out and ready for our hotel. We followed Cordelia’s directions to the other side of Boston – really only 7 miles but about 20 minutes’ drive! – to our Inn for the next two nights. We stayed at the Longwood Inn, on Longwood Avenue in the Brookline section.
It was a beautifully quaint three story inn, very clean and in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. We checked in only to find that our quaint little inn had no elevator, and we were in the very back corner on the third floor! Let me tell you that climbing all those flights of stairs with all our luggage was no picnic.
And speaking of picnics, we discovered that although we had access to laundry and full kitchen privileges, breakfast was not provided. So we jumped in the Honda and went a few blocks into town. We bought ice to refill our cooler, a loaf of bread and some butter, and went home to picnic on our beds with all the goodies from our trip bag.
I want to mention here that most of those goodies were a generous birthday gift from the girls at work – two big bags full of every type of snack and munchies you could imagine! We didn’t need to buy anything, although we did sneak in a little chocolate on the side! We had plenty.
It was crazy to say, but well before 9pm we were both tucked in bed with our books, reading ourselves to sleep. There was still a lot to explore tomorrow in Boston. And the evening and the morning were the third day – and the sisters saw that it was very good.
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Dinner at the Wharf – June 19, part two
Although there were several more mansions to see, we had reached the end of the tour day. We had wanted to do the Newport Cliff Walk
along (you guessed it!) the cliff,
but it was again getting a bit overcast and cool. We browsed the gift shop, where we bought a few post cards and I got a coffee table book on the Mansions of Newport. Cordelia guided us off the island and to our motel, over a bridge, around in circles of a roundabout, and through a few intersections to our very convenient place for the night. Of course it was next to a Walmart! Good opportunity to stock up on what supplies we were short on.
I am not going to name the motel, as it was the worst night of our entire trip! It was probably the second time in my life I felt uncomfortable in a location. The room was clean, if not sparse, but offered almost no amenities – including security! Not even free coffee in the non-existent lounge area. We got sort of settled and drove back across the bridge into downtown Newport and found a parking space near the wharf. After a short walk around the cobbled streets we chose a restaurant right on the water among the yachts and fishing boats. 
We could smell the sea air and feel the gentle breeze off the ocean.
Of course we had fish and chips. We loved seeing the boats, some of which were bigger than twice my house! They were just bobbing on the docks, the strings of globe lights reflecting against the other boats and the water. We watched a few tour boats come and go, looking dwarfed against the yachts.
We were almost too full to move, but we walked back through the quaint little tourist shops along the docks. That’s when Kath bought the Breakers mystery book. There were so many unique and tempting things to see and explore! We decided to search out the Castle Hill light house that was supposed to be only 3.5 miles from downtown. Cordelia led us down the side streets, but we seemed to always miss the road. There were no signs to point the way. We ended up at the top of a private road to an exclusive dining club, where the gateman assured us that we were on the right road and gave us almost-good directions. We found the wooden gate house (which I assumed would be the size of a small shed and was actually no larger than an outhouse!), parked in the grass as instructed, and found the mulched path through the very close woods.
It was by now growing dusk, and there were no other people around and no path markers. But as I had never seen a lighthouse in person, we were up for the adventure. When we reached the top of the slight rise, we saw the top of the faded white stones and the black roof. 
It looked like it was only a few feet tall and we laughed. But once we cleared the woods we realized that we were at the top of a bluff, that we were only seeing the very top section of the lighthouse. The mournful moan of the lighthouse warning echoed across the water; gulls swooped and flew overhead. The waves splashed and crashed against the black, bleak rocks below us, almost straight down.
To give it credit, there were a set of wooden stairs in three sections that went to the bottom of the lighthouse to the shore. We walked over close to the steps, and one look down told me I was not going to attempt that. Kath was game, though, and reached for the wooden railing – which promptly shook, swayed and wiggled under her hand. She looked at me and grinned and went down the first flight of stairs. I moved back a little further and watched but still refused to go down.
When she reached the next level she turned around. “I’m not going down any further. Even I can’t make myself feel comfortable!” We took a few pictures, safely back from the edge. Darkness was slowly creeping in around us, and we hurried back down the path to the car. It was dark by the time we reached the bridge and were back across the roundabout and at the motel.
(looks deceptively calm, doesn’t it????)
Which was the second scary episode of the day. I managed to fill the ice bucket then double-lock the doors and check the windows. We were hoping for a quiet night, but heard untold numbers of thumps and knocks and things that go bump in the night. There were even people yelling and stomping up and down the hallway.
We woke before the alarm to absolute buckets of pouring rain. We were showered, dressed and had the car packed by 7am. We were out of there! We ate breakfast at a Dunkin’ Donut across the street, and began to feel normal again. The hotel notwithstanding, Newport was a fairytale place and I was drawn to the magic and grandeur of the mansions and the town. It was definitely on my list of places to return to, sooner rather than later. So the evening and the morning were the second day. And the sisters felt that it was – all in all – very good…
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