My Husband’s Mistress: Fern
Several years ago, my husband starting leaving the house to go work on the “road” – the name we gave our driveway that meanders through a dense forest in the Adirondacks. Thinking it strange that he spent so much time on the road, I peeked out a window one morning and encountered him on his hands and knees gently pushing aside ferns to pull out prickly raspberry vines and weeds that were vying for ground space. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me he was clearing out the brush and weeds to give his ferns space to grow. My husband loves ferns: those fragile looking green-leaved surface cover plants that can spread as fast as kudzu if given the chance. Read more 
Blue Mountain Lake, 12812
Today, like most days I stopped at the local post office to pick up the mail. We don’t have mail delivery in our small village called Blue Mountain Lake in upstate New York – everyone has a box. Liz is our postmistress and she knows everything that is going on and is not averse to passing along information, which suits everyone just fine. In and out is impossible as locals and summer residents stop to talk about what’s going on in town (not much, usually but that’s the way everyone likes it), the weather, or how bad the black flies are this year. Read more
Fresh Eggs, Anyone?
While driving through the back roads of the Adirondack State Park, there was a sign advertising farm fresh eggs. Real farm fresh eggs; not the smooth clean eggs carefully packed in cartons and perfectly lined up in the refrigerated section of most American grocery stores. Read more
Paddock Post 