A Winter Walk in the Woods – The Perfect Rx for SAD (or SLUG)

4 February 2012

This blog is dedicated to all the people who keep asking us when are we going to post a new Salmon Falls blog. They tell us they want more new stuff to read more often. Well, we hear you and we have decided to blog not just about our photo road trips, or photo techniques and tips we've learned along the way, but to also post occasional blogs about the everyday, ordinary, the sometimes hum-drum times we spend together, Bevie and me, little sister & big sis, Lilytopia & Tupelo.

This blog is about “the perfect Rx for SAD”. Translated that is “the perfect prescription for Seasonal Affective Disorder”. One of our readers, a pharmacist by education, likely didn’t need a translation. Likewise our nurse practitioner reader. But for anyone who wondered what the heck we are writing about in this blog, now you have a heads up as to what’s coming.

Each winter as the days grow shorter and the nights longer and we have fewer and fewer hours of sun to shine on our bodies and in on our retinas in the back of our eyes, Bevie and I develop SAD. Medically it’s correctly referred to as Seasonal Affective Disorder. Or what I like to call the SLUG Syndrome. Slug . . . the perfect word to describe how I feel from January to April . . . really and truly, just like a slug. But it’s also an acronym I made up that stands for SAD, LAZY, UNKEMPT, GROUCHY. On a scale of 1 – 10, 10 being the worst, I am a 7.5 on a good day; on a bad day I might be a 9.5. (I know. Kind of scary, eh? Especially if you’re my husband.) I won’t presume to rate Lilytopia, but I would guess estimate she might be around a 6. Not good for either one of us. And something we want right now is a Rx to relieve the symptoms.

Every week, Lilytopia switches her Friday and Saturday off from the library, and it just so happened yesterday (Friday) was her day off. I called her Thursday night and suggested we GET OUT(side), walk in the sun not wearing our sunglasses, and let as many rays as possible hit the back of our retinas. She was all for that. On three conditions: 1. I take a shower; 2. I wash my hair; and 3. I brush my teeth (all things that come with great difficulty when you have SLUG). I promised I could do all three. She promised me a surprise destination in return.

I just needed to clean up, show up at her house by 10 am, and bring my birding binoculars and bird scope. I hadn’t been out of the house since the previous Friday (honestly, I really hadn’t), so I desperately needed something exciting like a mystery adventure to get me going. I got prepared (must admit it felt good to shower and wash my hair), loaded up my birding equipment, and was off for Lilytopia’s by 9 am.

I had guessed we might we driving to the Cape to see if we could spot the Snowy Owls that had been sighted in the marshes down there – they usually don’t migrate that far south so these have been rather unusual sightings. I’ve seen them up on the North Shore in the marshes off of Plum Island, but never down in this neck of the state. But no, Lily (I’m giving her a nickname so I don’t have to keep writing such a long name) had other ideas. We were headed to the Halfway Pond Conservation Area in Plymouth to see if we could spot the two pairs of bald eagles who are building nests on the island in the middle of the pond. Eagles, like owls, start getting ready this early in the year to stake out their territories and start their new families.

The Halfway Pond Conservation Area (HPCA) is a protected open space preserve that is owned and maintained by the Wildlands Trust (http://www.wildlandstrust.org/) of Duxbury, MA. HPCA is comprised of 409.6 acres and is located on Mast Road and West Long Pond Road, two miles south of Long Pond Road and “contains important natural areas and is a place of rare tranquility and beauty”. And we were going to explore it and look for those eagles.

We decided to go in from West Long Pond Road which runs between Gallows Pond and Long Pond and leave the car in the small parking area at the beginning of Gallows Pond Road. We parked – not hard to find a space when you’re the only car there. Then we hopped out (no, truthfully, we did not hop out – we were still suffering symptoms of SLUG), popped open the trunk, and got all our gear ready to go – Lily with her backpack loaded with camera equipment (which she had to carry herself because her trusted sherpa was at work) and her binoculars. I switched lenses on my bird scope from a 22X to a 25X, and attached the lens to my tripod, and hung my binoculars around my neck.

Lilytopia wears these cute little earmuffs that have no band connecting them together and just stretch over each ear. I wear a very fashionable (not) hand-knitted hat that fits my VERY LARGE head perfectly (thank you mom-in-law who at the age of 95 is still a superb weaver of yarn). We put our gloves on (mine I think were Bob’s, but they were the only pair in my backpack and wool mittens for Lily), buttoned up our coats (the outer layer of at least three layers we were each wearing), I slung my bird scope over my shoulder, and we headed out.

We started out on Gallows Pond Road (if you want to follow our adventure, there’s a trail map at the Wildlands Trust’s website or . . . maybe Lily will scan it and add it to this blog) with the intention of ending up on the point of Big Point Trail where we’d have the best view of the island in the middle of Halfway Pond. But, we were out there for exercise and to get as many rays to hit our retinas, so we weren’t looking for the shortest, quickest route to get there. Lily decided we’d take the Connant Storrow Trail that connects with the Joe Brown Trail, hang a right on the Blackmeer Trail until we got to the Big Point Trail, and then we’d stop at an opening on the water and look for eagles. Now doesn’t that sound logistically well planned and thought out – like something very experienced navigators, trail map in hand, should easily be able to traverse? Not.

As we started out walking, the first surprise gift of the day was the snow that fallen the night before. The snow looked like mini-mini Styrofoam balls. I made Lily take several photo of some leaves with the little snow balls on top. It was a very, very light dusting and didn’t come close to completely covering the ground and seemed to be most noticeable on the north side in the shaded areas in the woods. But it was so delicate and fragile looking that you wanted to just sit and continue contemplating it. It was cold enough the entire day that when we left HPCA, all the snow that had fallen the night before was still on the ground.

We walked a short distance on Gallows Pond Road, took a left onto the Connant Storrow Trail (not) and thought we were doing great. You’d think the terrain in Plymouth, being so close to the ocean, would be mostly level. Again not. We climbed some very steep hills and, me, carrying on my shoulder a bird scope and tripod that weigh well over 25-lbs., was beginning to wonder what we’d gotten ourselves into. When suddenly, VOILA!, they we were – RIGHT BACK AT THE PARKING LOT WHERE WE’D LEFT OUR CAR. Oh, go ahead and laugh. You can. You won’t embarrass us. After all, can you name even one famous Polish navigator? Even if you can, Lily’s and my name won’t be on the list anytime soon (or ever).

Time to reassess. We obviously needed a new route plan. But first, leave that way too heavy bird scope in the trunk of the car. I needed aerobic exercise, but not so much I need to carry all that extra weight around. We decided it was probably safer to follow Gallows Pond Road all the way down to where it ends and take Whippoorwill Trail where it crosses Gallows Pond. A very straightforward route that should lead us almost to Big Point Trail which is the trail that goes around right down by the water’s edge.

Well, we almost did that plan. But (again) Lily decided that instead of take Whippoorwill, we’d just follow Gallows Pond Road which ends almost at the water and is short hike through the woods to the beginning of Big Point Trail. We did make a couple stops along the way, as we were facing directly into the sun, to open our eyes wide, gaze not at the sun directly but something on the horizon approximately at the sun’s height, and let those SAD defeating rays beat in on our retinas. If you’re an ophthalmologist, we don’t want to hear from you. We know. We should have sunglasses on. But have you ever lived with SAD??? When it comes to the trade-offs of becoming less of a SLUG versus causing damage to your eyes, the SAD Rx always wins!

Well low and behold! Here we are now at the water’s edge on Halfway Pond. A nice little trail (we believe it might be private but we were the only humans in the woods for miles around) leads right down to a very nice little sandy beach and the water. Someone had conveniently pulled a very nice raft out of the water for the winter and placed it up on the beach. Do I see the perfect spot to sunbath? Yes indeedie.

Lily first contemplated the water trying to decide whether to take a dip. Not. She did take a photo of some interesting animal tracks in the wet sand. If anyone knows what critter made them, we’d love to hear from you. Lily guessed maybe a dog. I think not. I think may a raccoon – although it would have to be a BIG raccoon. Lily decides taking a photo of the tracks is good enough. Nix the dip in the water. And she comes over and lies beside me on the raft.

Now that was the most spiritual moment of our hike. The sun was so warm, we were sheltered from the wind by the trees around us, you could hear birds in the forest – chickadees, a couple of woodpeckers – even the wind whistling through the tops of the pines. And the sky. THE SKY! It was the most amazing color of blue – clean, clear, crisp – a color of blue that Crayola will never be able to accurately duplicate. And Crayola would never be able to come up a name to give that color blue the artistic justice it deserves.

It was a Zen moment, it was like having a spa treatment, it was like meditating, it was a spiritual meeting of the minds with Mother Nature. And then I noticed how beautiful the trees overhead looked while I was looking at them from down below. We took what I think are some awesome photos and I hope Lily will include each and everyone of them – even the ones she added special filter effects to. Because the photos with special effects only lend to how special that brief but beautiful span in time was for us. Always remember what I told you Lily dear.

But now Lily is up and starting to pace around. This is her “I’m getting restless again” mode. My goodness. The girl needs to retire. Us retirees could have lain in that warm sun until the sun dipped low enough in the sky that it started to get too cold. And so, being the always very accommodating big sister, we decided to move on. Oh, almost forgot. Not a single sighting of any eagles, nor did we spot the beginnings of any new nests. The island is huge (owned by The Nature Conservancy with no public access allowed because there are a number of very rare and endangered plants growing there). It’s possible, had we hiked around the pond, we might have spotted the eagles from the other side of the island along Mast Road. Perhaps a future hike for us.

On our way to the car, we started off on Gallops Pond Road, which is a hard-packed dirt and sand road (it’s been cold enough that even the muddy sections were frozen hard as a rock!). We decided we’d take the easy terrain home. But stupid me, as we walked along the road, I noticed that the Whippoorwill Trail was only about 20-ft. in from the edge of the road. Lilly says “Let’s hop over onto Whippoorwill and hike up around the big wetland area.” I am a sucker for exploring any wetlands. And so through the woods we trekked over onto Whippoorwill.

And we quickly came upon the wetland indicated on the trail guide. The wetland area was much larger than I had thought it would be and sections of it had one-foot or more of standing water. And once a conservation agent always a conservation agent. And I had a very willing, interested, and curious student. So I explained to Lily some of the aspects of wetlands and how wetland lines are delineated (no Steve, no soil borings or Munsell Soil Color Chart readings – I wasn’t about to add a soil auger and field guide to all the gear I was carrying – besides the ground is frozen fairly deep).

I showed Lily how to identify sweet pepperbush in the winter and how a good botanist tries not to even see it when evaluating the shrub layer when doing a delineation. There was healthy sweet pepper growing in the standing water and more growing way up the slope well into the uplands. I identified some beautiful specimens of wild high-bush blueberries growing in the water. And we checked out the mats of very thick sphagnum moss growing everywhere.

The trail led us almost around the entire wetland area. And I actually spotted several areas of mayflowers growing on the upland sides of the trail. In the 20 some years I worked as a conservation agent, I never once spotted mayflowers amongst the acres and acres of woodland I hiked checking out wetlands. So spotting them on a fun hike was a wonderful gift! We also came upon a resting bench on the side of the trail with a thermometer attached to one of the legs. It was 0 degrees Centigrade in the shaded woods where the sun had already slipped below the top of the hill. How many degrees Fahrenheit was it? Check out our photo to see. (Just call me Ms. Wizard.)

When Lily and I were little, our mom would take us for walks on the cart path beside our house that led down along the swamp and the brook and ended up in an overgrown field. On the edge of the east side of the field, under a grove of pine trees facing south southwest, there were mayflowers growing everywhere. Now the leaves of mayflowers are nothing special to look at, but the little blossoms are beautiful. And the fragrance. HEAVEN ON EARTH! We would pick just enough stems to bring home to put in some little vases to place around the house. And then when we walked from room to room, we could stop and inhale that fragrance that you never wanted to stop sniffing it is so delicious. I don’t why someone hasn’t figured out how to make mayflower perfume. I would certainly buy a bottle.

A little further on, we decided to take a few photos of some checkerberry plants that still had berries on them. When we used to go hiking in the woods with Dad, he’d let us eat checkerberries (once he knew we could positively identify them). The berries have this mint-like taste that reminds me of peppermint. And Lily and I had been joking, should we get lost in the woods and not be able to find our way out (a real possibility considering how our hike started out), we needed to remember where we’d seen checkerberries because that might be the only food we'd have to subside on until our husbands found us. The checkerberries would count in the food pyramid as fruits and vegetables, but we weren’t sure where we were going to find our protein. Maybe whatever left those tracks in the wet sand down by the edge of the pond?

And soon, almost before we knew it, we were back where we started. For the second time. Only this time we had covered a lot of territory, taken a lot of steps, climbed quite a few steep hills, climbed down quite a few steep hills (ever notice how going down a steep hill is often more difficult on the legs and feet than climbing up?). Lots of rays had shone in on our retinas. We had done some heavy breathing, so we knew we’d gotten a good aerobic workout. And we were at peace . . . with ourselves, with each other (not that we aren’t most of the time anyway), with Mother Nature, and with our SAD. How can you ask for anything more from a day outdoors? It had all been perfect.

P.S. It’s now Saturday and just a short time ago, I chatted for a few minutes with my Lily. Like me she was exhausted last night. Our legs were tired, my left heel was sore again (a still-healing injury from all the walking we did in NYC), but we both slept great last night and feel wonderful today. Our Rx for SAD (SLUG), a winter walk through the woods, seemed to do the trick and make us feel much better. When we go out hiking again to explore new trails, we hope to share some of those adventures with you. No more reserving blogs for just photo road trips.

Brandywine Valley, Thursday

The skies in Chadds Ford were quiet Wednesday night. No rain, no tornadoes, no wind, no hailstones. Nothing like the action going on at home in Massachusetts. As soon as we got out of bed and opened the curtains in our room, we could immediately tell that Thursday was a whole different day. And duh, I don't mean it wasn't Wednesday anymore. But in a way, it wasn't Wednesday anymore . . . the sky was clear, clear blue, no haze hanging over the land, a pretty stiff wind was blowing. The world looked like it was a whole new clean and sparkling place.

And it was. As soon as we walked out the front door of the hotel, it was like we were in a whole different environment. It was delightful! And we were heading out to Valley Forge and maybe to the Brandywine Valley Battlefield if we had enough time later in the afternoon.

In school, especially high school and college, I was not a good history student. History didn't interest me, I found it boring, and I did what I had to do to get a decent grade in class. But anything I learned, I forgot as soon as I had taken a test on it. That all changed as I got older. Now I find I'm fascinated with learning about what happened where, when and why. I had been to Valley Forge once before, back when Stef was in 5th or 6th grade, but I didn't remember much at all of what we saw or learned on that visit. So it was like seeing the place with fresh eyes for the first time.

We had called ahead to make reservations on the shuttle tour that goes around the park with a NPS ranger who explains what you're seeing and what happened where, when and why. But when we called the park, we found out the shuttle tours didn't start until June 12th. However, as an alternative, we could purchase a CD in the Visitors Center and listen to the tour in our own car as we drove around. That sounded pretty good to us. We even liked the idea that we could set our own pace and even replay sections of the CD if we needed reinforcement (a little Valley Forge lingo there) in the learning department.

First we visited the Visitors Center and much to our delight, they had one of those penny-squeezing machines that flattens out a penny and imprints an image of the site you're visiting. Stef is a big squeezed penny collector, and I was able to get her four new different Valley Forge pennies. I also purchased two new books to read this summer - one I'm particularly anxious to start - a book about the gardens that many of the different presidents had over the years. When we visited Monticello several years ago, I was quite intrigued by the careful planning and gardening that Thomas Jefferson had done on his farm in Virginia. And being from Massachusetts and living not all that far from Quincy, I had also read about John and Abigail Adams' farm and gardens. So for me, this presidential gardening book is going to be good summer reading.

Now back on track. First Bev and I roamed the gift store paying particular attention to the book selection which was quite good. And then, just as we were paying for our purchases (including the tour CD), they announced the beginning of the movie that's shown in the auditorium up the hill and gives visitors an overview of Valley Forge and what happened during the winter of 1777-1778 while the Continental Army was encamped there.

The movie was excellent. The hardships that the soldiers endured that winter were almost unfathomable by today's standards of living. Bev and I walked out of the auditorium with a whole new appreciation for these men . . . and women, who stood such trials and tribulations all in the name of gaining independence for our country.

Then it was time to hop into our car, pop in the CD guide to Valley Forge, and start out on the Encampment Tour. What we shortly discovered was that, if we carefully followed the guide's reminders to keep our speed at 15 mph, we always ended up right where he said we would be. So we would drive and listen to a general description of what was happening as the Revolutionary War transpired, then the guide would tell us something specific about a site we were coming to on the Encampment Tour, then we'd stop the tape and get out of the car and explore the specific site we'd been directed to. If you ever visit Valley Forge National Park, this is a great way to see the park and learn more detailed history of what happened at this very inspiring place. I highly recommend it.

I will leave it up to Bev to pick a representative sampling from all of the photos we took of the beauty of Valley Forge. It was a perfect day for taking photographs. The air was crystal clear, the sky was blue with just a few puffy white clouds floating overhead, there was a strong enough breeze that all the flags were flying nearly straight out (always looks very patriotic), and the fields, the woods, the meadows, were still a nice bright green shade of spring. The photos will give you an idea of what Valley Forge looks like - but visiting will give you a true sense of the beauty of the area and the importance of the history of what happened there. It's an exciting place to visit, but also a place that whispers reverence and respect and gratitude.

As it turned out, we spent most of the day at Valley Forge, and by the time we left the park and had traveled back to Chadds Ford, the Brandywine Battlefield park was closed for the day. So we never did get to visit on this trip. Another reason to return and explore that which was left unexplored this time around.

Then it was back to Hank's restaurant for another chance to pick something from that wonderful menu of homemade cooking. Our waitress from the previous night had put a little bug in our ears about how wonderful the Greek food was at Hank's. Seems one of the chef/owners is Greek and cooks food just like she would cook it in the "old country". We had noticed that both nights moussaka was listed on the blackboards on the walls as being a special for dinner. So when we went back for our second visit, we kind of had Greek food on our mind.

As it turned out, neither one of us ordered the moussaka. But I ordered a Gyro sandwich ("slices of beef & lamb blended with Mediterranean seasoning, served on lightly grilled Pita bread with freshly diced tomatoes, onion, parsley, and our special homemade Tzatsiki sauce - a refreshing cucumber/sour cream/garlic/dill dressing) and Bev ordered the Greek salad. Both were very good. We also had strawberry pie for dessert on our minds. The menu lists it as "Hank's Fancy Strawberry Pie" (in season) and the first night, although we weren't eating dessert there (we had already decided to head back to Kiwi Yogurt that night for one last cnance to create the yogurt dish of our dreams), we had asked our waitress if their strawberry pie was in season. It indeed was.

So this night, our very nice and considerate waitress actually came over to our table halfway through dinner to inform us that there were only 3 pieces of strawberry pie left. And since we had shown such interest in the pie the night before (we had the same waitress both nights), did we want her to save two pieces for us. Of course we did!

So now, for the pleasure of our foodie followers, I quote from Hank's menu a description of his Special Strawberry Pie. "Beginning with our delicate crust, this delightful dessert has a layer of sweetened cream cheese then a layer of sliced bananas, follower by a layer of whole fresh strawberries, topped with strawberry glaze & walnuts. A Hank's speciality $4.50" Oh, and if you live in the area you can buy a whole strawberry pie to go. Needless to say, neither one of us left any strawberry pie on our plates.

And then it was back to the hotel to get a good night's sleep before the drive home the next day. It had been a wonderful week. The morning we left Chadds Ford for home, and even now nearly a week later, I don't think much about or remember how oppressive the heat was. I remember all the wonderful things we saw and did. The nice people we met along the way. And even though Jamie Wyeth's "Maine Coon Cats" is sitting on my dining room floor propped up against the china cabinet waiting for the perfect wall to be hung on and I'm very excited about that, the thing that most stands out in my mind, the time I treasure most, is the time we spent at Valley Forge.

It was hard to stand looking at the United States National Memorial Arch with the American flag blowing in the breeze against the blue of the sky in the background and not be overcome emotionally with feelings of gratitude and respect for ALL the members of the military who over so many years have served this country with such dedication. You all know who you are. Thank you so very much from the bottom of both Bev's heart and mine.

The rest is history as they say. Safe trip home. Made good time. Husbands and kitties anxiously awaiting our return. And now we have next spring's photo road trip to look forward to and dream about. I wonder where the winds will take us in 2012? Something new to dream about . . .

Brandywine Valley, Wednesday

Ah, the heat. The humidity. This was predicted to be the hottest day of the week. The weathermen were promising that a cool, dry front would move through by the end of the day. AND, the county where Chadds Ford is located had tornado warnings posted until 8 pm, heavy hailstorm warnings posted until 8 pm, heavy wind warnings, etc., etc. We didn't know whether to be happy about the possibility of some incoming cooler, drier weather or anxious and concerned about all the scary warnings for severe weather. So we decided, as we headed out for the morning, we'd keep an eye to the sky, and if it started to look scary dark, we'd turn the radio on to listen to a weather report. And off we went. Two intrepid photographers out to explore the area.

Our first stop of the day was the Brandywine River Museum where Americana art is exhibited in a 19th-century grist mill located on the Brandywine River. The museum is known for the unparalleled work of 3 generations of the Wyeth family - N.C., Andrew, and Jamie. And for those of you who regularly follow our blogs, you already know that Bevie and I love the Wyeth's work. Not that anyone should have a favorite, but the order in which we love the Wyeths, first it's Andrew, than Jamie, then N.C. So this was an exciting day in our trip that we had been eagerly anticipating.

First, once we had parked the car in the museum's dirt lot next to the Brandywine River, we had to make a trek down to the riverbank. We wanted to check to see what the water looked like because we were tentatively planning on returning later in the afternoon to take a dip in the river. On Memorial Day, as we passed over the bridge on the main road, we'd seen lots of people sitting out in the river in water up to their chests and people floating down the river on tubes. We had visions of spending some late afternoon hours cooling off in the river ourselves.

But alas, we were disappointed. It was not like the Saco River in Maine - a favorite paddling spot of ours where the water is crystal clear and there are beautiful sandbars along the river where you can pull up in your kayak or canoe and then hop into the water and swim and float and goof around and get cooled off.

The Brandywine is very muddy looking to the eye. It carries a tremendous amount of suspended silt and even at the very edge of the river where the water is not that deep, you cannot see the river bottom. And we could see fallen down trees and trunks and branches sticking up out of the water = tree trunks and branches also under the water. And since we weren't familiar with the river, the depth, the current (which appeared to be quite strong in the middle), and weren't too enticed by the very muddy appearance of the water, we decided we would pass. I would love to go back sometime though and go tubing on the river.

So into the museum. Admission desk is to the left immediately after you enter the front doors. Time to get my wallet out to pay for my ticket. But, for some unknown reason, perhaps because it was an art museum of mostly Wyeth paintings, it dawned on me that this was the perfect time to ask someone in the know how I could go about finding a limited edition of Jamie Wyeth's painting of Maine Coon cats. I figured a woman working in a Wyeth museum might have some good ideas.

I explained to her that ever since the first time Bob and I visited the Farnsworth Museum in Rockland, Maine and had walked into The Wyeth Center there only to be greeted at the front of the gallery by the original copy of Jamie's "Maine Coon Cat", I had been in love with that painting. I could never expect to buy the original. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. And it's probably not even for sale - it's likely in the Wyeth family's private collection. But I might be able to buy one of the limited edition prints that were made.

I had looked and looked and looked. I had checked Jamie Wyeth's online gallery with no luck, other galleries that carry Wyeth prints, no luck, even eBay hoping that a private owner might be selling his/her print. Everywhere was sold out. Even worse, I came across different galleries that were also looking to buy the print because they had buyers who were interested in purchasing the print too. I had basically given up hope. But it never hurts to ask.

WELL! Imagine to my surprise - the woman at the counter pointed over her shoulder to the rear wall of the gift shop behind her, and there on the wall was hanging a matted and framed copy of "Maine Coon Cat". AND IT WAS FOR SALE! The top of my head nearly blew a gasket. I couldn't believe it. But it was real. It was the last print the museum had to sell. It was #15 of the limited edition of 25 prints that were made to sell to the public. And it was signed by Jamie Wyeth himself. Now I won't be so gauche as to tell you what it cost, but I did have to think about it - but only for the amount of time it took for me to walk around the front counter and ponder in my head what the purchase would do to my financial status and credit card balance. By the time I'd made one revolution around, I was telling the woman behind the counter I'd take it.

While Bev and I toured the galleries, the museum staff wrapped my "baby" up ever so carefully so it would travel well and not get damaged. And when we later walked out of the museum to our car, I had that baby tucked ever so carefully under my arm. Bev then made a nice safe place for it in the trunk using some things to cushion it from road bumps. Now it sits on the floor in my dining room waiting for Bob's return from the bike trip he's on this week with Bev's husband Bob. And when they get home, hubby and I will decide where to hang it. Oh me, oh my, I am one lucky, lucky lady.

It was interesting to wander the Brandywine River Museum and see how the Wyeth paintings there compare to their paintings at the Farnsworth in Maine. Both museums primarily display the paintings that were done in their home region. If you love the Wyeth's paintings of the sea, beaches, sailboats, blueberries, all things Maine, you'll enjoy visiting the Farnsworth. If you love the Brandywine Valley, the influence of the Pennsylvania Dutch on the architecture of houses and farms, the rolling hills and rivers and streams of the valley, you'll enjoy visiting the Brandywine River Museum. It was interesting and fun for Bev and I who have now visited both museums, to see and feel the differences.

Now on to mushrooms. I owe the pleasure of this visit to my husband's cousin Ming who lives in Virginia and who, when I was telling her about our trip to the Brandywine Valley area, said we must visit the mushroom place in Kennett Square. Well, little did we know that Kennett Square claims to be the mushroom capital of the United States. There are more than a few mushroom places in town. But I had done some research on the web before we left, and the mushroom place that most intrigued me was Phillips Mushroom Farms - the largest grower of specialty mushrooms in the United States (for more info check out: http://www.phillipsmushroomfarms.com/). We were most interested in visiting The Woodland Store where you can buy fresh mushrooms, dehydrated mushrooms, marinated mushrooms of all kinds, mushrooms salads, etc, etc. And yes, we did indeed walk out of the store having done some damage to our credit cards. The nice people in the store were kind enough to give us a bowl of their marinated mushrooms to try while we looked around. Those babies were too good to be polite and just try one or two. Between Bevie and me, I think we must have eaten 10 mushrooms each. They are addictive.

And then we were off to chase down the mushrooms with some wine from the Chaddsford Winery. I like sweet wines and purchased a bottle of Sunset Blush and a bottle of Sangria. Bev and Bob and my Bob like dry wines, so I had Bevie pick out a bottle for my husband, and she picked a Sauvignon Blanc. And I also purchased two new wine glasses with Chaddsford Winery's name and logo on them - as did Bev. Over the years as we've visited lots and lots of wineries (too many to count and remember now), I've always purchased two wine glasses. Then when we have company and we serve wine, I have this wonderful collection of glasses from wineries in Massachusetts, the Finger Lakes, the North and South Forks of Long Island, Rhode Island, and many other wineries spread across the country.

So now that we'd had some pre-dinner appetizers, it was time to think about where to dine for dinner. I suggested Hank's Place located not far from Chaddsford Winery - a small restaurant advertising home-cooked food and adorned with the most beautiful hanging flower pots and flower gardens all around the outside of the restaurant and the parking lot. From the street it looked almost like a miniature Longwood Gardens. And the sign said the restaurant was Zagat rated. How could we go wrong?

So for our foodie followers, if you remember anything from this blog, remember Hank's Place located at the intersection of Routes 1 and 100 in Chadds Ford (http://www.hanks-place.net/). They serve breakfast, lunch and dinner. And we were very impressed with the food. We never did get to try their breakfasts, although the menu says if you ask, the chef will cook you breakfast anytime of the day. And the breakfast menu was one of the most extensive breakfast menus I've ever seen. So remember that name . . . Hank's Place, Homestyle Cooking, and you will thank us from the bottom of your hungry little hearts.

We decided to pass on dessert at Hank's. Not that dessert didn't look good. But we were stuffed, and Kiwi Yogurt over in West Chester was calling our names. Again like those Sirens calling the Argonauts. We decided we hadn't seen much of the rest of Chadds Ford, so why not take all back roads over to West Chester and check out the countryside. So beautiful. Rolling hills, farms, Pennsylvania style stucco houses, streams running through heavily forested, shady, cool glens. And also some very expensive homes. The kind of homes that you can just barely see from the street as you pass by, long driveways with gates out at the edge of street, and keypad guarded entrances to keep the rif-raf and nosy tourists out.

This time we had Kiwi Yogurt down good. Don't bother trying to find a parallel parking spot on the street (West Chester is a buzzing little place even in the evening - it's a college town with West Chester University just on the outskirts and college kids are everywhere). Instead, you just drive into the public parking garage right next door to Kiwi Yogurt and pay 75 cents for an hour and a half of parking - the same price as the meters on the street (and they say Polish people have a hard time figuring things out). And this time we also figured out that the yogurt is actually heavier than the add-ins, so we went a bit lighter on the yogurt (I had mango again - couldn't resist) and also went a bit lighter on the add-ins. Each of our "creations" came in this time between $8 and $10. Don't know how that worked out. But what the heck, we were on vacation and that yogurt was the cat's meow.

Now we're tired, the sky is starting to get dark and ominous looking, and we're figuring it's time to go back to the hotel and check-in by phone with our hubbies. Little did we know that when we called home, we'd find out that although the tornadoes never did come to Chadds Ford - they came to Massachusetts instead! And we never even had a drop of rain where we were.