Apple Picking

We're ending a great month in New England, and since fall is around the corner, we do what seems perfectly fitting: apple picking. Though they are early apples, they are super-crisp, juicy, and a little tart, just the way I like them. Pippa has a hard time eating them since she is now so toothless.

 

At Shelburne Farm, it's not just about the apples. There's also ice cream, apple cider donuts, and some very sweet time with the grandparents.

 

All in all, it seems like a fitting way to end our trip to New England and to usher in fall. The girls and I can't eat one more gigantic American "kiddie" scoop between the three of us; we are leaving my parents with about 20 pounds of apples that we, sadly, can't smuggle in to France; and the girls have started to complain about going swimming every day. Now we can't wait to get back home to Paris.
 

The Cape (Finally!)

You wouldn't think 100 miles is so far, but this is a trip four years in the making. Our good friends (who recently visited us in Paris) live in the Bay Area but have a family home on Cape Cod, and we have been invited there ever since the summer of 2008. That year, we were literally just heading out the door to get in the car for the trip when the phone rang. My friend Daniela told me that both her kids were throwing up with fevers, and since it was just days before we would be getting on an airplane to go back to San Francisco, where Gigi was going to celebrate her 5th birthday on her first day of kindergarten at her new school, I decided not to risk getting her sick. So we skipped the trip.

Summer after summer, there has been some reason it didn't work out. One summer, our trips East didn't coincide. Another summer there was again some illness, I believe. I can't even remember all the issues, I only know that summer after summer we talk about visiting them on the Cape, and it never seems to work out. Until this year. Finally!

We are late getting there, due to a host of things like not being able to locate the bathing suits to pack; pit stops along the road; having to detour to my parents house to pick up forgotten items; hitting rush hour traffic jams; etc. But still, we refuse to cancel this year. And we are rewarded right away with this sight, as we arrive:

Though the visit is briefer than we would like, we enjoy every minute of it thoroughly. Great friends, great surroundings. How can we go wrong? We hit the beaches, both bay-side and pond-side, and several local treats, including one coated muffin which is nicknamed the "sugar bomb".

 

There is kite-flying involved, and much moving around of crabs and small fish.

 

But perhaps the best nature lesson is helping Bill the neighbor and experienced turtle volunteer check the turtle egg protective enclosures. After several letdowns, the kids are rewarded with a nest of real, live baby turtles.

 

 

 

And we see this guy at the side of a road. He's not a protected class of turtle. He's just a regular slow plodder, but we stand guard over him until somebody goes back and gets Bill's expert advice which is that he'll be just fine and will get himself over to the woods. Even if he's not endangered, we like him, and all the kids suddenly understand why turtlenecks are so-named.

Like this turtle, we are slow getting to our destination. We just hope we don't need to wait another four years till we visit them again on the Cape.

 

Cousin Time

One of the best things about heading East for the summer from San Francisco -- or West in our case from Paris -- is the chance to see cousins of all generations. Precious!

 

Some cousins come from far. This is Pippa and her cousin from NYC who is 15 days younger, but who gives her hand-me-downs nonetheless. Selfishly, we are quite pleased that both she and her mother have really fantastic taste in clothes and access to all those Manhattan stores...

 

 

Also from NYC, my own first cousin who is 15 days younger than me. Though we're beyond the days of hand-me-downs, she does give me excellent free therapy, being a psychologist and all. It's my annual visit on the couch. Except that we usually do our chatting in a Goodwill store, at a restaurant, or on a nice long walk. I call her my "couster" -- that would be a cousin-sister. And my relationship with her is the perfect proof to me of why childhood cousin time is so important.

 

My couster has kids of similar ages to my own, and they love each other. Here, Pop-pop (my dad, that is) visits his magical endless-stuff garage. Think Mary Poppins' handbag. And he comes up with a spontaneous puppet theater set for their production. The youngest boy is doing his best Spider Man impression. And I have become Spider Man's latest nemesis -- an evildoer named "Freezy Von Waffle" who has the audacity to serve unthawed waffles (but only upon request. Yet still mysteriously considered evil).

 

 

 

Here he is in his beloved car, Blackie. Besides being Spiderman, he is also a budding photographer who takes this excellent photo of his mom and dad; it's a family classic that involves taking pictures of other people taking pictures.

 

 

 

Some cousins are close by (well, once we travel the thousand miles to get to the Boston area, that is). Here the girls and their first cousins on Anthony's side -- Anthony's brother's two kids -- enjoy the last days of summer before heading back to school.

 

 

We've always thought their cousin (the girl without the goggles) could easily pass for Pippa's big sister. DNA strikes again! Here's a photo from four years ago that shows it best:

 

 

And, of course, we spend lots of quality time with my own sister's kids, whom we see a lot of during our trips to Maine. It's still a little bizarre to me that my "little" nephews both stand tall among the men already. Am I that old?

 

 

They are great with their little cousins, who basically use the big boys like jungle gyms whenever possible.

 

  

 

 

My own girls won't be little ones much longer -- wanting their cousins to read them bedtime stories and playing pattycakes.

 

 

 

And how much longer will he be able to pick up Pippa like she herself is the basketball? It's Michael Jordan, with a slight Pippa-sized handicap. Gigi's already too big to cart around while dribbling. But she's not too big to find it absolutely, positively hysterical.

 

 

 

 

Tradition, Tradition!

There are few things in life that are certain. Death. Taxes. And, for us: S'mores and More -- the things we do every summer on our visits to Maine. It's nice that even though our girls have been so peripatetic, they still have these magical summer traditions. So, in addition to the inevitable death and taxes, we have:

S'mores: too big, too sweet, too sticky, too perfect. Every year, one of the girls gets a little in her hair.

 

 

Walking Minnie (a.k.a The World's Best Dog). Greatly coveted. Minnie must be exhausted after our visits because of the near-hourly walks.

 

Belly dancing and a hippie-feminist drum circle with cynical Peter Brady-esque audience member.

 

Arts and crafts: usually it's beading, and we have the necklaces, bracelets, and earrings to prove it. But this year, Aunt Lisa branches out and gives the girls birdhouses to paint.
 

Firecrackers: the teens and grown-ups stand around and let the girls light them all, one after the other. The little pyromaniacs.

 

 

Competitive board gaming. The new board game added into the mix this year is Parcheesi. Bananagrams is a favorite old standby for the grown-ups. This year Gigi plays a round; though she doesn't win, she manages to sneak in the impressive word "trivia". In another landmark, somebody actually beats Pippa at the game of Set. Sam, a 21-year old engineering student, manages to take a game from his 7-year old cousin, and though it is her first-ever Set defeat, she maintains composure. We are proud, proud parents. And Sam is rightfully proud too, having achieved his lifelong goal of dethroning the reigning Set champ. 

 

 

And last, but not least, walking by The Portland Headlight. Does it get any more perfectly Maine than this?!

 

 

 

 

 

Acadia Adventuring

Something I find almost too incredible to contemplate: Anthony grew up in New Hampshire, with a family that likes nature, hiking, and traveling (within means), and yet he had never visited Acadia National Park -- the most-visited national park, just five hours from his home in the neighboring state. Until now.

 

And so, we go kayaking in Southwest Harbor...
 

 

 

...hiking on the famous Bumblebee trail and others, and picnicking at the top of Cadillac Mountain...

 

   

  

 

 

...swimming in a pond, but rather trepidatiously once leeches are found...

 

...and riding bikes along the carriage roads inside the park -- all the way to Jordan's Pond. There, we take in all the calories we spend for the day (and a whole lot more) eating huge meals and multiple hot, fresh, buttered-and-jammed popovers, which are the specialty of the house.

 

                                                                                                                                   photo of popover from: http://ruthsrecipes.com/Drecipes/donnapopovers.html

 

And perhaps the highlight of the week: rock climbing on the South Bubble. Anthony used to be a pretty serious rock climber, and I think it is particularly special for him to introduce this to the girls (who have only ever done an indoor wall before). Our girls are half monkey, half mountain goat, and entirely fearless. So this is a perfect activity for them.

 

 

Well, it's perfect for them to be the climbers. Would you trust this child to belay you?!