My dad was the king of the road trip, and so I guess that makes me Princess Road Trip. R did not always share my fondness for a long car ride with scowly-faced children and Raffi radio. I can't think why. 
But now that's all changed because R wants to visit the farms, and today we drove all the way to Brattleboro Vermont to see a man about a pepper-- in fact a whole pack of peppers. While we were there we picked up some yogurt, eggs, and bread, too. Can you say yum? Buckaroo chased a few chickens, and I realized that my childhood smelled like a chicken coop. R says when we have hens of our own I'll feel like a spring chicken every day. Lucky me.
We scooted downtown to check out the farmer's market, too. The farmer's market is the place for me. There were so many good things from which to choose we had to have ourselves a spot of lunch and ponder it all. While we were in line for lunch a very well-dressed baby futzed with my hair, and then we enjoyed a mozzarella sammy with hot chai in a room overlooking the river. Buckaroo gobbled his snickerdoodle but didn't make googly eyes at the baby. He isn't crazy about babies these days and tends to shout, "Babies don't share their balls with me!" whenever we see a wee sprite. He's an odd little duck, but he's ours.
We hustled back to The Woods because I had a poetry call to make, but the trip allowed us to finish listening toFrom the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler , which made for big conversation, and I made some serious progress on a little scarf thing I'm knitting.
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Love,
Mom