What’s better is that New York’s scenic Chenango Valley hosts Madison-Bouckville Antique Week (MBAW) in August and it just happens to coincide with the Chenango Blues Fest. I was unaware of the latter when I drove up this weekend to attend the former. Trust me. I won’t be fooled again. Continue reading
“Country auction tomorrow night. Interested?” The text was a simple invitation from my sister-in-law Lynn. Interested? She had me at country.
Don’t get me wrong. I firmly believe in the power of travel guidebooks. Fodor’s. Frommer’s. Lonely Planet. Rick Steves. (If you’ve begun to wonder whether I have an absurd obsession with Mr. Steves, I’ll ‘fess up now. Yes. I do. And I’m not ashamed to admit it.) These books provide essential information for travelers, the “nuts and bolts”: maps, hotels, and attractions. However, they are sometimes out-of-date, particularly if you’re using a library edition of an old guidebook to plan a trip. It’s just the nature of the research, write, publish cycle.
My friend Steve refers to his flea market finds as “antiques of a dubious nature.” I’m sure his wife calls them something else. A few weeks ago I purchased this rusted metal frame during my Colgate University reunion weekend, intending to turn it into a wonderful memento. When I brought it to the folks at Architectural Metal and Glass and tried to explain my vision, their reaction was, at best, dubious. I picked it up today and I think they were actually sorry to see it go. Perhaps it is possible to turn an ugly duckling into a swan? Now if I can only figure out a way to hang this in the garden to reflect the hydrangeas while they last. Nestling it in the shrub is not a practical solution.
If you have reason to leave Route 17 at Roscoe, New York (Trout Town USA and Home of the World Famous Roscoe Diner) and begin to wind your way through hamlets like Walton, Masonville and Norwich, your head will swivel dangerously as you check out the sights. The Cannonsville Reservoir on Route 10 is breathtaking, particularly in dusk’s early hours. My friend Chris is fascinated by the number of houses that have not one, not two, but three grills on the front porch. It is truly inexplicable.