I want to cover more about Rhinebeck, and I will, but I don't want to forget Apple Festival, either. Shall we go back to Columbus Day weekend? Please follow Mr. Peabody
into the Wayback Machine
. No pushing, there's room for everyone.
I left for Grandma's right about on schedule that Friday morning, suffering only a 10-minute setback when I went back for something forgotten (a classic trope I don't usually fall prey to). I decided not to go to Starbucks after all (a tactical error I would regret later), having discovered that my "free birthday drink
" was a matter of them sending me a card for one sometime around my birthday, not my showing up on my birthday and saying gimme. Since it wasn't exactly on the way, I opted out.
The weather was drizzly but not awful, traffic was busy but not awful, and things moved along. (Like the man who was shaving as he drove past; aren't people interesting?)
I stopped at one of the rest areas on the Pike, thinking that I could get something (other than water) to drink there. No Starbucks, but they had a Ben & Jerry's (and you know how I love their ice cream), so I figured I could get something milkshakish there. They had something on the menu that looked possible, so I asked the woman if she could explain what the difference was between the varieties. I should have walked away when her explanation didn't explain anything, but I decided to try it, and then waited and waited while she made it (the kid she was training had to go get some ice [?], and it took him a while). I paid, she handed it to me and immediately went back to her inventorying, and I tasted it. Ugh! I tried about three sips, then found a garbage can. It was awful, sour and nasty; not sour-milk, but bitter, like there was no sweetening in it. It had ice cream, so how was that possible? If it's supposed to taste like that, I can't imagine who drinks it. What a waste of time and money.
To make myself feel better, I went to the small farmer's market they had set up outside, and bought flowers to bring to Grandma. They traveled pretty well in their cup, only getting slightly bent by my movements, and were a very cheerful thing to have on the trip. The woman I bought them from was very pleased that I had noticed her sign about flowers, and I was happy to have them, and Grandma liked them, so it all worked out well.
I don't know any of the varieties, but I sure think they're pretty.
When I stopped to get gas later, I noticed an interesting "sign proximity event". I don't mind Subway once in a while, but I can't imagine getting a sub at a place that also sells night crawlers. Just ... no.
The rest of the drive was fine, and in fact the overcastness (overcastitude?) probably got me there earlier than a sunny day would have, since in that case I would have been stopping for leaf pictures here there and everywhere. In the gray, there were colors to admire, but nothing to take my breath away.
Saturday morning, my aunt and I departed for the Festival in the rain that was supposed to have cleared overnight. To my dismay, I had neglected to "just throw my boots in the car" the way I usually do for this trip, so I had only sneakers to face the mud in. See, overpacking isn't so bad! You pack-light people, how do you handle the wet feet to come?
Actually, it wasn't wet so much as muddy. With all the rain they'd had that week, and the continuing precip, it was swampy, and without the straw they usually put down to help out, well. Frankly, the footing was a mess, and I still have high-mud marks on the sneaks. However, the shopping was fun all the same, just broken up by very careful stepping between tents.
I bought a fair bit of stuff. Some of it is destined for gifts, so no showing here, but I got some things for myself, too, of course.
A couple of pieces of "my china
I splurged and got two. Live while you can, you know?
I just loved this little card. The fact that the rabbit wears bunny slippers!
In a Rhinebeck preview, I got to see a couple of alpacas--one of the farms brings a few to the Fest every year. (Not the same farm that I bought my yarn
from; the other one.)
This guy wasn't quite sure what I was up to.
And, as every year, I had to get french fries from the fire department, and admire the potato-to-fry process. Yum!
We worked for a few hours in the church tent selling pies, and people certainly ask a lot of questions. Yes, they're all apple
pies (Apple Festival, remember?). Yes, they're hand-made, by the church ladies. Whole pies only, not by the slice. (This was not a problem for the three teenage boys who pooled their money and took a pie away to find forks.) Selling pies is pretty congenial work, and now that the price is an even $10, the math isn't even hard. (Two years ago, it was $9
, and that required a little more care.)
It was cloudy but barely raining when we started:
And in a while, the sun actually came out!
Three hours of being nice, following three hours of shopping, took it right out of me, and I was glad to lie down for a bit and read when we got home. Had to rest up for our dinner out! Yes, my aunt and grandmother took me out for my birthday. It was really good. The drive over was pretty, too:
I did not get a picture of the five deer crossing the road in front of us; I was too surprised. Forgive me.
Sunday we went back to the Fest, did the last of the shopping, and then worked in the Chamber of Commerce tent for a few hours, selling coffee this time. It was really busy, since the weather was cooler and windy, encouraging people to want hot drinks. We hardly stopped moving the whole time. Better than being boring, but again I was tired by the end of the day.
So that's Apple Festival weekend! I drove home Monday, without incident, and normal life resumed. I will leave you with a few shots of Grandma's cat.
Her normal posture, tidy and reserved:
And a rare casual moment, mid-bath:
I love cats.