As sister-in-law and I headed out of Venice (stopping at Black Gold, our favourite coffee place first) we had the usual springtime accompaniment of snowbirds going north. On they ploughed in great hordes up Interstates 75 and 95, with their caravans and cars and canoes, all tenuously held together.
I realised how much I was going to miss the flat country and felt some trepidation about heading to where winter was probably still in progress and spring barely a hint in the woods. "We're expecting two inches on Saturday" said hubby, who was flying north before me. And he didn't mean rain. But there was always the prospect of new little towns and artisan coffee shops and the challenge of avoiding the chain restaurants. Our first stop claimed to be the oldest city in the United States. More on that shortly. The blog has further travels to fit in in the next few days but watch this space.
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