and headed North, up the NY State Thruway, and West, deep into the Catskill Mountains, where we found a quaint little 1830’s farmhouse waiting for our arrival.
I’d been wanting to enjoy the cozy atmosphere of the mountains in the fall for some time, and was more than willing to drive three hours to do it. Three hours turned to five at the hands of rush hour traffic, the rain, and some bad directions. Minor annoyances, to be sure, but not enough to dampen our spirits.
No, the place where our enthusiasm was tested was somewhere on Route 23A (or was it 23?), as we were finally feeling closer to our destination. We were maybe 30 minutes away, thoughts of our impending bucolic weekend dancing in our heads, when we heard sounds from the back seat: a kind of loud burp followed by a splash, followed quickly by another burp-splash, and a third, and a “Mom! Eamonn’s throwing up!” and finally a drenched and smelly 6-year-old beginning to panic about the involuntary mess he’d just made.
That’s not a pretty scene when it occurs on a sunny day in your own neighborhood, but it’s orders of magnitude worse after dark, on a lonely stretch of unfamiliar highway, in the cold rain, while driving a rental car that is not equipped with so much as a box of tissues to aid in the cleanup.
All I can say is that I have never been more happy to have a bag of clean clothes in the trunk, or to be en route to a destination with a washer & dryer.
We’re laughing about it now, but I must say it took a few minutes to find the humor in the situation, and a few days to rid the car of the stink. Poor Eamonn. It’s going to be a long time before he orders another strawberry shake…
I chose to illustrate this post not with images from that Friday night (you’re welcome), but instead with photos from our Saturday, where we still dealt with much rain, but we also got to meet some chickens, gather a basket of eggs, drive around the countryside, and stop in at a few book stores.
I enjoyed a quiet morning coffee on the front porch by myself. I started a knitting project twice and ripped it back out as many times. We lit the old wood-burning stove and felt it warm up the whole house. We had hot chocolate before bed.
The house was lovely, and I’d have stayed an extra night or two if it was feasible. Arriving late on Friday, having rain all day Saturday, and leaving early on Sunday made it feel more like a day trip than a weekend getaway. It was nice, but entirely too short. Next time? I’d like a three day weekend, minimum. And we’ll skip the strawberry shakes en-route, thankyouverymuch!