The promise of a rose garden

For reasons which will become clearer next weekend, we had to make a trip northeast to Washington County. We had never been before, I don't know why.  It's not that far from home and rather scenic.  A lot of farmland, and quite hilly.  It put me in mind of Yorkshire.  There are many dairy farms, and I've heard the local chocolate milk is second to none (maybe they feed the cows on a diet of pure chocolate?  Who knows?).

After trying some things on our feet and on two of our heads, we came home via Saratoga.  At a junction we found ourselves opposite the entrance to Yaddo, a long-established artists' community.  The building and much of the land around it is private and off-limits, but its famous rose garden is open to the public.  Though who would visit a rose garden in January?  Not two members of our party, who resolutely stayed in the car while their indefatigable parents paddled across the mud and last traces of snow to see these imprisoned statues and, er, some more mud.  Never mind.  Perhaps we'll manage to visit again at a more suitable time of year.

The rest of the day has been spent at home, the house ringing to the sound of Jim Dale reading from two separate volumes of Harry Potter simultaneously (both kids are now undertaking their own personal Harrythons, and are at different stages).  It's the last day of the holidays.  Hooray.  Tomorrow the Man will be back at work, the kids at school.  And me?  Oh, I'm sure I'll find something to get up to...