This past June, Mom and I decided to take a road trip to visit Acadia National Park in Maine. With temperatures in the eighties and the sun in our eyes, we set our compass due north and said ta ta for now to Southern Indiana.
As we traveled, the mercury in thermometers continued to fall. With chattering teeth and blue legs (we were still wearing shorts), we explored roadside attractions in rural New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine.
Perusing the charming town of Chester, Vermont, is a particularly fond memory. It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon, and we had thought the shoppes were probably closed.
The “Open” sign at DaVallia Art and Accents attracted Mom’s attention, so we stepped inside to browse.
Unusual ceramic pottery and appealing jewelry vied for our attention, but the items that won our hearts were tiny basewood carvings of Father Christmas in a glass case along the back wall. The kind lady minding the shoppe said that they were fashioned by a talented artist residing near Montpelier. Who would’ve thought that we’d be swooning over Santa carvings in June?
As Christmas approaches, and I admire our three Father Christmases, each with his own snappy personality, balancing on dehydrated orange slices, I am reminded of why travel is so near and dear to my heart. The unexpected twists and turns of the journey often become one’s favorite memories.
Until next time,
Happy Trails and Happy Holidays!