The Day After

After a rather epic Thanksgiving, I went back to work in the coal mines and left a certain mom and a certain husband home, with promises and plans to meet up later.

I offered to make them bloody marys before I left but they declined because they are as pure as the driven snow.

No, they had something else in mind . . .

. . . Hiking.

I know, right? How healthy and wholesome.

Their first stop? Ocean Beach, naturally . . .

. . . where they had the whole place to themselves . . .

. . . well, almost to themselves.

And then? Because they are tireless and indefatigable?
Harkness State Park.

It's a spectacular place, across Ale Wife Cove in Waterford, and they had themselves a Time.

Oh, hi Ledgie.

Look at Mom. Doesn't she look like Wyeth's Christina's World?:

I mean, if she'd been lying down on the hill instead of hiking up it?

Mistah, unsurprisingly, had Fun With Photography.

You think the Harkness Mansion is cool?

Yeah, well, get a loada this.

And the trees . . .

. . . don't they look like they're frolicking with eachother?

We enjoy statuary in New London, clearly.

 We are a stately, refined people . . .

. . . sort of.

But seriously, how cool is this?

But, let's face it -- Mom looks great hiking with any kind of photography capturing her in action.

And the leaves this Fall . . .

. . . don't they seem to have extra-vivid color this year?

. . . they seem to have taken on a life of their own . . .

. . . hey wait a minute. That's not Harkness . . .

. . . that's my Right-A-Way!

To backtrack, though, from The Day After to The Day. Because really, you don't want to miss this:

 The Bird.

The Gravy.

 The Stuffing.

 The Brussels.

 The Red Cabbage.

 The Sweet Potatoes.

 The Potatoes Gratin.

 The Bean Cake.

 The Turnips.

 The Gorgonzola Garlic Smashed Red Potatoes.

The Table.

The Most Illustrious Hosts.

The Crew.

And, naturally, Fun With Photography:

My favorite.

And to backtrack even further?

There is only one way to transport oneselves and onestuff to a destination one tenth of a mile away:

 Via pink wheelbarrow.

 And yes, of course . . .

 . . . our progress was duly noted and recorded.

And to return, finally, to the titular Day After . . .

. . . we luncheoned . . .

. . . we Local-Business Shopped . . .

. . . we posed at the end of what Mom considered extremely dark and dangerous alleys . . .

 (oh, how we miss you, Ernie's)

. . . and we drank up the Day After Love.

New London -- and Ledgie back there -- loved having you here, Mom. Won't you come back again soon?