Steeplebush

 This summer, I went to see the house I grew up in - Jericho, Vermont.

 It was an improvised visit - Martha & the girls and I had some time to kill between games at Jacob/Jesse's wiffleball tournament in Jericho, so it seemed the logical thing to do.

 The views are.....what?  Pick an adjective.

 South-east side, looking south.  Camel's Hump.

 South-west side, looking west to NY and Lake Champlain/Adirondacks.

To think he found the hill when he was out rabbit hunting. 

 Did I really live here?  Was I really raised in this paradise?

 Here are 2 of the Morse brothers, whose parents bought the house last year from the Jones', who bought it from us in 1989.  We surprised them on this Saturday morning and they could not have been more gracious.  (Estelle has face paint on).

 A few vestiges of the Alexanders hid around every corner.

 Steps down to the basement from garage.

 The boys told me their mother had ordered new curtains to replace Mom's blue ones, which is why there is a blanket hanging.

 Space.  Space.  Space.

 We even went into the barn.  Dad's chicken coop still intact upstairs.

 This stopped me short.  Reached out and put my hand on it, just to touch it.

 Joanie's father's day cards, still thumbtacked up in the barn.

 It's not red anymore, and our paintings outside are gone, there aren't cows, or chickens or turkeys, but it's still Dad's barn.

 This is where I caught fireflies.

Martha and I drove down the hill, the girls babbling away in the back seat, and us in silence, each of us lost a little bit in memory.

The Vallée de Daims

I tried to do this post over the weekend and something went haywire with the site. Will try to fix it now!
In August, this summer while in Calvinet, we spent one morning nearby visiting a private reserve for these little deer, called "daims".

The girls had been before with Guy & Andrée, but I had never gone, and Thomas can't recall if he ever had. 

We knew there was a little train to drive you all around the park, and that you could buy food to feed the animals.

Interestingly, when we arrived, we had to call a cell phone and a college-aged guy arrived in a dirtbike to let us in and take our money.  The little train was only for the afternoon, and because the animals we felting their antlers, we were not allowed to feed them as they were considered aggressive.

So in the end, there was not another soul to be seen in this place.  Just us and about 100 fawns.  It was a bizarre, and fantastic experience.

The guy said "just close up when you leave".  It was surreal.