Some say the end of summer. I say the beginning of fall.
We spent Labor Day weekend in Vermont. If you've never been to Vermont...
Uncle D and Aunt N live on a dirt road in a small Vermont town, population approximately 1,500. From the pouring of the foundation to the nails on the roof... they have built their beautiful home with their own hands. It started as a weekend retreat many years ago and now, in their retirement, they live there year-round.
It's a joke to say they are retired. They have acres of land to maintain. They have multiple gardens to harvest (50+ tomato plants!) and wood to chop.
They have a stream that runs through their property, they have a pond, and they have a pine grove perfect for campfires and hammocks.
It is our Labor Day retreat. And it is gloriously beautiful.
All weekend, Uncle D had a fire going in their stone fireplace in the living room. Perfect to come in and warm up your chilled body from the fall like temperatures.
All weekend... and I mean ALL weekend. Four boys fished (B plus his three cousins).
One little girl sat in a paddle boat and watched four boys fish. There were only a few screams when fish landed in her lap.
And one little boy followed the big boys around from fishing hole to fishing hole.
There were tromps through streams, meadows and beaver ponds.
There were hay rides up and down hills on dirt roads.
There were cider donuts eaten. Maple syrup tasted. Marshmallows roasted.
And spring water sipped right from the spring.
K cried when we got home, "I miss Vermont already".
I do too, Sweetie. I do too.