Back to Maine & New Hampshire & Lake George, Too

First Stop – Fort Ticonderoga

The sound of the cannons being fired over the fort wall were loud. It was a warm sunny day and we found ourselves very happy to be back on the road again. Just under 2.5 hours from our house, the long tree-lined drive up to Fort Ticonderoga reminded me of trips we had done in the south visiting historical homes. Overlooking Lake Champlain, this 18th century fort had barracks to explore, fortified walls to climb, and most importantly, an amazing garden to “ooh and aah” over.

Our guided interpreters weren’t using real cannon balls that afternoon but dressed as British soldiers and American “provincial soldiers,” they put on a good show in pretending to defend the fort during the French and Indian War. We also learned about shoemaking and tailoring in the 1760’s and as much as we tried to get our “soldiers” to fall out of character by suggesting they order their britches from Amazon rather than sewing them by hand, they didn’t take the bait.

After holding our hands over our ears after the cannon firing, we headed towards the greenery. Called the “King’s Garden,” there is a bountiful vegetable garden (much of which was used I was told to create salads in the fort’s cafe) as well as an astonishing array of colorful flower beds and herbs. The fort was nice but truthfully, I could have sat in the garden all day.

Look at the lettuce, the over-sized sunflower, and the orange and yellow marigolds!

Here are some details from the garden door entrances and a lovely fountain in a reflecting pool.

After we left the garden, we had one last thing to visit before we left the area – Mount Defiance. A short 10-minute drive from the fort, a token we were given when buying the tickets had to be inserted into what looked like a parking meter. The people in front of us were having a bit of a problem with this task. It turned out that the distance between the meter and the driver’s side of the vehicle was too far. This meant that someone had to get out of the car, insert the token, then quickly jump back in the car so you didn’t run the risk of having the barrier gate hit your windshield. Sigh. Was this the best (only?) idea someone could come up with to give visitor’s access to the road that led up to the Mount? Once we dealt with this annoyance, the view at the summit of Lake Champlain and the fort in the distance was pretty amazing. We stayed a bit longer than planned to hear our costumed interpreter talk about everything that was wrong with the fort. First of all, the walls surrounding the fort weren’t high enough to ward off invaders, and secondly, it was facing the wrong way. Today, however, when you look at the picture I took, it kind of looks like a halfway decent condo complex.

Lake George Revisited

After visiting the fort, we drove south to Lake George. Although we had driven through Lake George a few times coming back from someplace else (probably Canada), we hadn’t stayed in the area in 20+ years. Eschewing the more touristy Lake George main area, we settled on a family-run resort in Diamond Point.

The Juliana Resort was a quirky motel with ranch style accommodations. Before booking, the reservation site was very specific about your room amenities and views. Therefore, given the option of having a “parking lot view” or at least a glimpse of the lake, I chose the latter.

Well, it wasn’t the sprawling view of the lake I thought it would be and the “beach” aspect of the resort was probably the tiniest piece of sand I had ever seen, but there was a dock, and the mountains were pretty. Also, the room was clean, and the grounds were well-kempt with lots of grills and outdoor tables and even a wooden “Adirondack-style” swing that we did indeed swing in.

Dinner Options

If you remember my story from two years ago about our dearth of food options (and only a single food shot – BBQ in Richmond, VA), I was determined that was absolutely not going to happen on this trip. I planned hotel stays based around restaurants I wanted to dine in. In the Lake George area, I knew this would be a challenge since “red-sauce” and “wing-type” places outnumber any true culinary finds. Well, you probably know where this is going, right? The restaurant we ate in (which I will not name) on the first night of our road trip looked okay on their website. Right on the lake and only a short six-minute drive from the motel, it boasted not one but three outdoor decks, a no-reservation policy, and what they described as “stunning views.”

When we arrived for dinner, I didn’t see any food on anyone’s table. What I did see were half-eaten plates of nachos, bread baskets that appeared to have been untouched, and lots and lots of empty wine glasses. It’s not like we had the option of going anywhere else, right?

We ordered clam chowder (first mistake) that was mostly cream and potatoes. Lynn opted for a pork roast special that I have to assume no one else in the entire restaurant had ordered because they gave him what seemed like a family-sized portion. I had been craving a steak since the beginning of the summer and decided to order a tenderloin. The steak that came out was so overcooked it could only be described as “gray.” Even though it was actually fairly soft, it was tasteless. Hence, even more sighing on my part.

When I asked our server to take a picture of us that evening, briefly explaining to her that we hadn’t traveled in two years, nor had we been back to Lake George in over 20, she said, “Wow!”

I continued to tell her that I realized after working on a photo project this past summer that I had only found 72 photographs of us as a couple. When I showed her a photograph that was taken shortly after we first met, she said something very odd.

“You’re so small!”

I think she meant to say “young” but somehow “small” became her word of choice. Since Lynn is 5 foot 10 and I’m not much shorter (5 foot 8), I don’t think “small” is the way to describe us. But since we both have a sense of humor, we now like to ask each other in the morning, “How are you feeling?” Obviously, the answer is “I’m feeling small!”

In case anyone is curious. Do we look “small” in either of these photographs?

In the morning, I made the mistake of telling Lynn we would be having breakfast at a “flapjack-type of place” on the drive out of town. He seemed to misinterpret this as a breakfast spot that only serves pancakes. Consequently, I had to show him the menu since he’s really an egg-and-toast kind of guy. We actually had decent ham and cheddar omelets for breakfast and yes, I ordered a side of silver-dollar pancakes. Not only were they yummy, but I was happy they didn’t upcharge me for some real maple syrup to pour on top.

Destination: Lake Winnipesaukee

At some point during the pandemic, I had been getting emails from the Wolfeboro Inn in Wolfeboro, NH, on the above-mentioned lake. We hadn’t been to that part of New Hampshire, and it seemed like it might be scenic and fun. Luckily, there were also a couple of decent restaurants in town, so I thought why not? The hotel had seen better days, but it was also one of the few reasonably priced places to stay in Wolfeboro. Our room on the second floor looked out onto the central air conditioning unit of a lower building, and from what I could tell walking around the grounds, none of the rooms had a lake view. Luckily, dinner that night (not at the hotel) gave me faith that going forward quite a few good meals might be attainable.

Pavillon is a relatively new restaurant in Wolfeboro connected to a luxury boutique hotel. Focused primarily on small plates, we started with corn chowder and homemade parker house rolls. (I never order bread but couldn’t resist trying these.) Spätzle with roasted carrots and peas (shown below) was up next followed by a beet salad with watermelon, jalapeños and pepitas, and a scallop dish with pancetta, pea shoots, pea puree, and slices of peach that I really wanted to like. However, the peaches were tasteless and with a staggering price of over $40, I didn’t expect it to be oversalted. Nevertheless, we ended up getting dessert (a coffee crème brûlée) because I just happened to flip over the “after dinner” drink menu at the end of the evening. Having lived in Munich for nearly a decade, I was astonished to find a German brandy, Asbach Uralt, on the menu. Pours of this “Weinbrand” for a mere $10? I couldn’t resist ordering a glass.

A Gorgeous Day Visiting “Castle in the Clouds”

Wel, it wasn’t really a castle, but it was a very lovely historic house called the Lucknow Estate that was built in 1914 by Thomas and Olive Plant high up on a mountain overlooking Lake Winnipesaukee. Much of the house was inspired by the arts and crafts movement and the house had a couple of interesting pieces of furniture, as well as state-of-the-art appliances for the time. Castle in the Clouds had not been on my “bucket list” but I like to look at maps and find things for us to do rather than just hiking or day-drinking. Plus, I love touring old houses, so this ended up being a worthwhile visit.

There were gorgeous reading nooks, fireplaces, and decorative window trimmings to behold. There was an enormous laundry room with a sink I would like to have and a pipe organ that someone on our tour decided to play. There were skylights and let’s not forget the views! You could look outside a window and see the lake, and since we were truly “in the clouds” on this blue-sky day, the view was stunning. Dare I mention a “needle shower ” in the owner’s bathroom? Apparently, women were “discouraged” from bathing during this time period, but I think being pelted with all the water emanating from those shower heads might have been fun.

Onto Holderness and Squam Lake

After our tour of the house (as well as the basement which we paid extra for just to get an idea of the inner-workings of this luxury estate), we went in search of lunch. A lobster roll to be precise. We hadn’t originally intended to end up near Squam Lake, but I was intrigued by the reviews of Walter’s Basin Restaurant and the outdoor deck.

Here’s our lobster roll! With outstanding onion rings (not greasy!). And yes, when our server asked how it was, I told her it was one of the top FIVE lobster rolls of all time. She actually blushed! We ate our lobster rolls and watched a couple of boats come in and out of the neighboring marina.

Weir’s Beach, Then Dinner

Driving through Meredith (not much to see except a strange waterfall in the middle of town), we headed over to Weir’s Beach. Much of the town (similar to Lake George) had already shut down for the season. Walking through the town, it reminded me a bit of the old Asbury Park without the boardwalk, but a decent promenade with a view of the lake. I detoured a bit just to take a shot of the Weir’s Beach sign. Campy but cool! (I realized they don’t use an ” ‘s ” on their sign so maybe my spelling is incorrect.)

We headed back to Wolfeboro and walked around town a bit only to discover that most of the shops were already closed. We had made a reservation for dinner that night at Wolfetrap, a seafood place near the hotel. When we arrived for dinner at 6:30 (the last reservation we could get since the restaurant closes at 8 p.m.), we were greeted by a grumpy hostess who practically yelled, “Do you even have a reservation?” We assured her we did and waited a few minutes to sit at a large and somewhat uncomfortable wooden table outside on the deck. We had oysters which were described as “local,” but were actually from Prince Edward Island. (Not that local!) Lynn, for reasons known only to Lynn, ordered swordfish tacos that had a few pieces of fish thrown into a soft flour taco. Luckily, I fared better with a decent swordfish steak. The fact that we were back at the hotel by 8:16 pm., with not much to do for the rest of the evening, was uneventful.

Frank Lloyd Wright In Manchester

The Zimmerman house in Manchester, New Hampshire, had been on my radar for a while. Described on the Currier Museum website as “the only art museum in the world with two Frank Lloyd Wright homes,” tour times and tickets are limited with access to the homes only via the museum’s van. I had read about the Isadore and Lucille Zimmerman house (1950) but was surprised to also have a tour (three houses down) of the recently acquired Kalil house. So when we ended up on the van with a bunch of FLW “groupies,” each offering detailed descriptions of other houses they had seen (mostly in Wisconsin), I felt right at home.

Zimmerman was a doctor who lived in Manchester but decided to “downsize” to a ranch. Luckily, he and his wife were fond of Wright’s aesthetic and the world of Usonian architecture. This house was smaller than other Wright houses we had seen, but the signature Wright details were still there – custom-designed furniture, a galley kitchen, and small glass windows. I was also intrigued by the new-fangled appliances of the 1950’s which included a top-loading dishwasher. Since there was no basement in the house, even the furnace was stuck in a corner of what Wright described as a “workspace” rather than a kitchen.

There was also an open living room with one wall assuming the role of “long couch” and a very unique music stand. I think the Zimmerman’s must have had many lovely musical evenings in this room. Wright even designed a unique mailbox for this house which is still there today.

Mildred and Toufic Kalil House

Built in 1955, the house is one of only seven “Usonian” houses Wright designed. I wanted to like this house and appreciated FLW’s built-in furniture, but the house both inside and outside was constructed with concrete blocks. Although we were encouraged by our tour guides to sit down in the living room, the space reminded me too much of drab concrete buildings that sprang up all over post-war Europe. Here’s a few photographs to give you an idea.

Louis Kahn in Exeter and Following the Remnants of Hurricane Lee in Rockport

Apparently, we had once driven by the Louis Kahn library on the campus of Phillips Exter Academy, but I didn’t remember it! This time, with the help of a student, we managed to get inside the building. The Librarian on duty was not particularly amused by our being inside when students were “on campus.” She then proceeded to scold us and said we needed to make an appointment to visit the library. Suddenly, we were told to leave the building, and when I asked to take some photographs, she said “only one.” I decided to ignore her and quickly took over a dozen shots, but I couldn’t get the photograph I wanted. Why? Because there was an art exhibition in the space and someone had placed what looked like a big ball of chewing gum right in the middle of the famous ceiling.

We had time to kill before lunch, so we decided to drive up to Rockport and look at the water. Hurricane Lee had passed through 24 hours prior, so we were hoping to see some big waves. We got them! Along with a photograph of the “most painted building in the world” also known as Motif No. 1. I remembered we had a magnet on our fridge of this red fishing shack, purchased I believe when the town of Rockport was still “dry” (no alcohol sold or served in restaurants!) I’m glad to report this was abolished a few years ago but the fact that it was a law for over 162 years is mind-boggling.

Salem, Again

We had visited Salem two years ago and thought it was well, interesting. This time around it was very crowded, parking was limited, and we seemed to be surrounded by groups of young women dressed in black and wearing pointy witch hats. We went back to have lunch at a place right on the water where dinner had been decent. This time around our lunch was just okay. We walked around town, avoiding most of the touristy “witch-hunt” sites, and went to see the Peabody Essex Museum.

I liked this museum. Lynn thought the floor plan was difficult to read, but we saw a couple of interesting exhibits. It seems I’m always drawn to the gardens wherever I go, and the Peabody Essex provided a lovely outdoor space with an interesting fountain.

Over the years, we’ve stopped staying at Inns, preferring the anonymity of a larger hotel chain. However, all the hotel rooms in Salem were sold out that weekend and only because of a cancelled reservation a few minutes before I tried to book a room online did I find us a room. We didn’t really have to visit Salem again, but I had wanted to try a fairly new restaurant, Settler, that I had been reading about. Thus, we ended up at the Salem Inn, in a decent-sized room in one of their old houses. Breakfast was included in the room rate, but not only did you have to make a reservation for this meal, but also choose what you wanted to eat when you checked in! I found this tremendously annoying but did as requested. (9:30 a.m. – cheese and mushroom omelets, wheat toast, fruit, coffee.)

Dinner at Settler turned out to be the best meal of the trip. The only disappointment was a Martini that was lack-luster, and the excessive mark-up on the wine list. We ate our way through some lovely meze: tuna crudo with thinly sliced radishes; homemade falafel; a cozy dish of lamb merguez which is usually a sausage, but this was transformed into a meatball; house-made spaghetti with spicy clams; and a perfectly cooked halibut. Finally, we finished off the meal with not one but two desserts – a burnt Basque cheesecake with vanilla gelato and a chocolate tart with pistachio gelato. Was it delicious? Absolutely.

Kennebunkport, Maine, and the Atlantic Ocean

Remember we lived on Long Island for over 30 years so stopping to eat some clams and seeing the Atlantic Ocean shouldn’t have been a big deal. Maybe it was just the unusually warm September day. Or the fact that we were looking forward to seeing the beach again. Whatever it was, we stopped for lunch at Bob’s Clam Hut. There we both had a basket of fried clams but truthfully, we could have split one. It was good, but there was just too much food.

After lunch we drove to Kennebunkport. We had driven through the area two years ago on the way to Camden and I remember seeing people shuffling through town because it was so crowded. Luckily, this time the sidewalks were less busy, and when we checked into our motel, the Seaside Inn, we even managed to get upgraded to an oceanfront room.

We walked on the beach and afterwards just sat on our hotel balcony watching a few boats go by and a “ship-ahoy” themed weathervane spin on the top of a cupola. Actually, now that I look at the exterior shot of the Seaside Inn, it reminded me a bit of a place we used to stay at on Hilton Head Island!

I will only briefly mention dinner that night and our reason for being there in the first place. We had a nearly five-year-old gift certificate to the White Barn Inn that we were determined to use. We were the youngest couple at the restaurant and while the menu looked inspiring, the food that came out (regardless of what we ordered) had too much salt or cream or crunchy things. We opted for a cheese plate for dessert and were brought out a dish that looked like something a toddler might have cobbled together after standing on a stool to reach the fridge. To assure my readers that I’m not exaggerating, here it is:

Time to Go Home

Inevitably, it’s time to go home. Even when we were both working, we would try to delay the drive back by seeing one more sight and even having one more lunch. This time we decided to avoid I-95 for a while and travel down Route 1 through the towns of Wells, Oqunquit, and York. Along the way we found a roadside bakery and picked up some croissants. Then we found a road sign pointing us to Nubble Lighthouse. Who doesn’t like to see a lighthouse? Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea that cloudy, gray day. After a mere 10-minute detour, we were awarded with a picturesque shot of this beauty. You actually can’t get to the lighthouse (it’s on a tiny island), but you do get a lovely view from the parking lot.

We drove home in the rain (and yes, stopped for one last lobster roll), hit annoying traffic until we got to Albany, and already started planning our next road trip.

Until our next “Let’s Go” adventure.

If you missed my new collection of short stories, The Camp People, it’s available on Amazon.

Chasing Deer and Surgeons

I didn’t want the dream to end. I was in Europe staring at pastries behind a glass window. However, each pastry, unlike the scrumptious eclairs shown below, was placed apart from each other (a good six inches I would guess) with a number in front of it.

I gathered one had to order the desired pastry by number only and then sit down in chairs that were lined up as if one were in the waiting room of a doctor’s office rather than a beautiful cafe. Was this a pandemic-related dream? The six inches (or six feet in real life) seemed plausible. And sitting in a doctor’s office (or at least wanting to) nibbling a sweet treat seemed to be entirely credible given the last eight weeks.

Lynn had hernia surgery in the beginning of May. It was supposed to be a routine outpatient procedure with little post-op complications. Except no one could be there with him. He would have to be dropped off at the hospital and I would have to wait for a phone call from the surgeon. What’s this have to do with deer you ask? (Note the title of this essay.) Nothing, except that up until this weekend, they were always pretty well behaved on our property.

Lynn had delayed having the surgery because he wasn’t in any pain. Plus, once we had started the ball rolling on this semi-elective “event,” we were told the procedure had to be postponed until a surgeon was available and everyone was vaccinated! We were okay with that. After all we have known each other a very long time (42 years actually) and agree on the important stuff. Besides, we love just being by ourselves. We also love cooking and growing our own food. We did hope, however, that the hernia (derived from the Latin word “rupture”) wouldn’t do just that before the operation was scheduled.  

He was not good with anesthesia, albeit the last surgery he had was 28 years ago.  He had been running through Penn Station trying to catch a Long Island Railroad train to get home to me. But he slipped, missed a step on the stairs to the platform, and fractured his ankle.  Did he miss me that much to justify sprinting for the train?  Perhaps.  But in actuality, I was on bed rest for a pregnancy that could go bad at any given moment. He wanted to get home as soon as he could for both of us; everyone was on edge.

So, he, going into this new surgery, which had been delayed because of COVID, made us uneasy.  Could I tell him I was more scared than nervous?

He wouldn’t wear a coat on the day of the procedure. “More stuff to carry,” he said.  “Wear casual clothes” they told him.  After being home since March 2020 what else was there to wear except sweatpants and a t-shirt?   

“At least take a phone charger,” I said to him.

“No,” he countered.

I dropped him off at the hospital early (6:45 AM) but as mentioned, couldn’t go inside.  He went in on his own and it reminded me of the first day we sent our son to preschool many years ago. Neither of them ever looked back at me or even waved.  

I drove home and stared out our kitchen window.  We have a lot of property and woods so I waited for our “resident” deer to come down the hill to give me a sign that everything would be okay.  But they just walked right up to their usual spot – eating the grass and a dandelion or two for good measure. Thinking back on them now, I’m quite happy with their restraint.

They say most couples don’t talk about sex, death and money.  Pretty funny since we talk about all three of those “taboo” topics frequently – sex and money more than death. Should death be at the top of my list to think about today, though?

I tried to read but since we had been up most of the night worrying about the outcome, my eyes refused to focus.  I walked the rooms in our very large house and felt the quiet.  Was I prepared for him not to return?  I wasn’t.  But knew instantly how it would feel if he didn’t come home. I summoned up an old metaphor thinking that the “silence was deafening.”  I wanted to shout, “Yes, it is!”

I busied myself, texting our children, not revealing my fear.  And then the doctor called. “He did okay,” he said.  “Sorry there was a delay.” Turns out, this surgeon had not one but a few emergencies to deal with that Monday morning.  I compared it to waiting on the tarmac at JFK.  One is anxious for the flight to be airborne, for the trip or vacation to commence. Or, in this case, for the operation to be successfully completed and most importantly, for the patient to have a “smooth landing.”

I’m not religious and I don’t pray but I did look at the “bamboo” on our property which a local chef told me was actually Japanese knotweed. Their sturdy brown and green stalks were pushing through the soil up towards the sky. The chef told me that “their tender shoots are edible.”  Suddenly, I, too, felt I was living up to a particular word that the New York Times had written about in describing certain feelings one has encountered in the past year. The word is “languishing,” which made me think; instead of my current state of inactivity, perhaps I should be outside chopping up some stalks and then brewing them into some sort of medicinal beverage to help him recover?

Finally, 12 hours later, I drove back to the hospital to pick him up.  He was wheeled out in a wheelchair and looked even grayer than the t-shirt he was wearing.  I helped him into the car and reached over to fasten his seat belt. I realized it was exactly the same way I used to buckle in our children when they were young. 

“My phone is almost dead,” he said.

I didn’t want to say, “I told you so,” followed by “why didn’t you take the charger?”

Since then, he has been recovering slowly. No pain, but swelling was the primary culprit. He, who has always been the “lifter” of things in our relationship – whether it be bags of topsoil for our never ending gardening adventures or more and more lumber and moulding for house repairs – suddenly stopped lifting.

I would “grow” muscles I thought! I’d wheel out trash cans, carry out recycling bins, lawn furniture and even table saws! (Yes, we do in fact, have multiple saws.) Luckily, the deer decided not to invade our garden until he had healed sufficiently enough to help me try and remedy the problem.

If you recall my last post, I wrote fondly of the new fence we were planning to install because our old one was not only falling apart, but it was rusting and ugly. What we didn’t take into account when putting up our nicer, albeit shorter fence, was that deer can jump quite high to feast on whatever they think is tasty in your average vegetable garden.

We have lived in the Red House for 11 years and this is the first time we had deer be so bold. Around 8:45 on Friday night, we were alerted by a neighbor that a deer was in our garden. It was too dark by then to see what was consumed but in the morning we assessed the damage. Most of the tomato plants were gone, broccoli and Swiss chard, too. A rose bush that our daughter gave us a few years ago (and had a plethora of red roses blooming) was eaten down to the bottom. Ditto for the daylilies and the Stella d’Oro’s.

The lettuce was left mostly intact as were our peas and beans and anything that was squash-related. To say we were furious is an understatement. We decided we had to make our “pretty” fence ugly again by making it higher.

This is the fence that the deer could easily jump over.

And here’s the deer walking around the back of our driveway “pretending” she doesn’t see all the goodness growing inside the garden gate!

But first I went back to the farm down the road in hopes that there would be some vegetables to purchase. I was in luck when not only were there vegetables left but now everything was half price! So for $24, I managed to get new tomato plants, more broccoli, lettuce and Swiss chard. And I bought some Hungarian wax peppers to plant, too. And since I was not particularly confident we would pull off recreating the wheel (I mean fence), I bought some tomato plants that just needed to be replanted into bigger containers that I could grow on the deck.

When I got home, we hauled out the old fence we had unceremoniously rolled up, tying the rolls closed with duct tape. We thought maybe we could just unroll all the old stuff and attach it to the new fence. Our goal was to achieve some height. I mean, really, how high can a deer jump? According to at least four videos we watched, apparently six feet is the magic number. So, we had to make sure the “new” but soon-to-be-ugly fence was higher than that.

And then there was soap. In the past, we, too, had wasted money on bottles of deer “repellent,” dried blood in various forms, and other useless products we were sucked into buying.

Anything that has a powerful “scent” we were told would also aid in keeping them away. So after the greenhouse, I stopped at the supermarket and bought three bars of Irish Spring. Lynn cut them into thirds, drilled a hole in them, and hung them around the “key” areas of the garden.

At this point, for the first time ever, I really started to rethink the garden. After all, we support many local farmers in the area and there are numerous Amish farms within a five minute drive of our house. Couldn’t we just buy ALL our produce from them this summer? There is, however, a certain satisfaction to growing your own food and making something that’s edible and healthy. Plus, what would I write about and photograph if I didn’t have that one perfect tomato or zucchini or celery to brag about?

This, unfortunately, is how we had to add height. Attaching the old fence to the top of the new fence with some wire.

And then we realized we didn’t have enough “old” fence to finish the project. Why that is I don’t know since the dimensions of the new fence and the old fence were basically the same. Which is why at 5 p.m. we got in the car and made the trip to the big box store to look at our fencing options. This item, like lumber, had gone up in price as well. $72 later we headed home with a roll of fencing and finished the job nearly eight hours after we had started it.

My arms were scratched (and bleeding) from constantly hitting a thorny raspberry bush that I kept bumping into as we tried to unwrap the new fence. Why the deer don’t eat these berries is a mystery but they don’t. One of my legs was also dripping with blood since the sharp end of the fence roll kept hitting my leg as Lynn kept trying to measure (and cut) each section we needed. Besides all this, we were also hot, tired and sunburned.

When we were done that evening and I went back into the kitchen, I remembered when he finally came home from surgery that day. He hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours and was hungry! I had planned ahead. There was bread from the bakery, chicken cutlets, salad, even a Guinness-spiked pot roast! He wanted something “simple” so I quickly made him our “jet lag” dish – a ham and cheese omelet with fresh chives from our garden.

“Drink some water,” I implored him as I, myself, sipped a glass of wine, sorry he couldn’t join me.

I started to clean up the kitchen and begged him to sit down but he just wanted to stand and watch me. Apparently, when he was coming out of the anesthesia, he thought the attending female nurse was me and started to stroke her hair. I laughed and was humbled by that innocent, affectionate gesture. And then right before we turned the kitchen lights off, he looked at the stove and said, “you put the burners on the wrong way.”

And that’s why as long as I’m living in the Red House, I will never give up my garden. Even if everything I’m eating tastes a little bit like Irish Spring.