Simple Pleasures

It is autumn in New England. The sugar maples glow like precious gems along the hills and roadsides. Fallen leaves cover the lawns of century-old homes in the villages that we pass through, and bright orange pumpkins line most porches or march up the front steps. Roadside stands and farm markets sell Indian corn, pumpkins and gourds, potatoes, many varieties of apples, old and new, and fresh apple cider. We left the coast of Maine today and traveled west through rolling farmland and finally to the White Mountains on the border with New Hampshire. We made a brief stop at Annie’s Pride Farm stand, choosing some apples for eating and a jug of unpasteurized apple cider. There were handwritten signs all over the place. Signs like, “They didn’t kill your Grampy. They didn’t kill your father. To hell with the Atkins Diet. Eat more potatoes!! You’ll thank me for it. Spuds. The way life should be,” which is the State of Maine’s motto - WELCOME TO MAINE, THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE. Written on the cardboard box filled with Spencer apples from Newport, Maine, was this intriguing description: “Taste like apple crisp with ice cream inside.” How could we pass that up? Finally I spotted a woman pulling two children in a red wagon, heading towards a large pumpkin patch at the side of the farm stand. Watching them carefully inspect each pumpkin, brought back memories of my own children – the yearly ritual of spreading newspapers on a table, scooping the pulp and seeds from two pumpkins, and carving a jack-o-lantern face on each. It’s nice to know that some things do not change. Tomorrow we will drive through New Hampshire and arrive in Vermont. We have logged over 7,000 miles so far. ...P. L. Morningstar