We stayed in what had been the old grand hotel of the town of Saranac Lake, now very modernised, though it still had an interesting-looking bar, the former lobby.
Tuesday, August 30, 2022
Thursday, August 18, 2022
As we drove further north, past lake after lake, the cars and caravans started to peel off to left and right, to motels and cabins and campsites. The traffic was much thinner and when we got to Saranac Lake there was, amazingly, it being high season, hardly any traffic at all.
Now wouldn't it be nice to have one of those houses!
Not much mulch and manicure here. They must have been to the Chelsea Flower Show.
Just my sort of thing! I must get some more coneflowers for the jungle.
Hardly any tourists milling around in the quaint little town. Perfect!
An almost-English house!
Now what is a pair of scissors doing stuck to a column?
Ah - a barber's shop! Sweet!
I've never been to a place with so many signs supporting Ukraine. Good for them.
Tuesday, August 16, 2022
Come early August Hubby and I headed off to the Adirondacks. These claim to be mountains, though they're nothing like the Alps. Still, they're gorgeous to look at, all forests and lakes, the place where the Gilded Age millionaires established huge estates with giant wooden houses they tweely called "camps" The weather was gorgeous (never mind that the drought was ruining my Cattaraugus County garden - I tried not to think about it) and the drive, in hubby's vintage Volvo, most scenic. On the way we stopped to eat our sandwiches at Verona Beach on Oneida Lake, which has a spectacular lighthouse.
Friday, August 5, 2022
I was at the farmers' market last Saturday morning chatting to my friends from the delightful Flanigan Hill Farm when I did a double take. There, happily snoozing in a little pen was a tiny Jersey calf.
They'd had a competition among the local kids to name him - and the name the little girl who won came up with was ...Calvin. Very clever that.
I hasten to add that Calvin the calf was not one of the farm products for sale. It's not that sort of market.
Thursday, August 4, 2022
On our magical country lane.
It always seems like an entry to fairyland and the stillness, when there aren't any pickup trucks going up and down, is unbelievable. Not even the sounds of the forest - chipmunks making kissing noises, a faraway woodpecker, a rustling of something in the bushes, the drip of water from the trees.
Walking down on an afternoon there were some interesting clouds.
I had a debate with hubby whether this was a mackerel sky. "Mackerel sky, neither wet nor dry" is the not very helpful sailors' term, apparently.
While below the roadside wild flowers run riot. It's chicory and Queen Anne's lace time right now. My paltry phone camera can't capture the unique bluey-purpleness of the chicory.