Author: Beth Morrison

“Welcome to the farm,” Lisa said when we pulled into Bleu Stallion Farm, so named because of their mini pony, Rascal’s blue eye. Built in 1928, the two story, metal roof farmhouse welcome all who enter it’s premises. Touring the grounds brought a smile to my face as I met ducks, chickens and roosters all…

“Can’t you just see me cruisin’ around DuBois with my girls, singing?” “Yes, I can,” Ron replied with a wry smile as he glanced at me. “Pyromania” streamed from the radio, and I relived a teenage moment as I karaoked along to the best of my ability. My voice hoarse from my battle with the…

“It’s your birthday; you can do whatever you want.” “Good. I plan on sitting at the camper or the beach and do as little as possible.” Having a birthday in September, fall’s cooler temperatures make it perfect for a beach trip. With the kids back in school, booking a campsite becomes easier. Unlike the brutal…

“You can’t buy anything,” Ron said when we pulled up to The Bicycle Barn. Excited to explore Saturday morning, I headed out to get discovering discover I had a problem. During the drive-up, the chain protector became mangled. Recruiting Ron’s help, we found no tools to remove it, hence the trip to The Bicycle Barn….

“Want to go camping? They’ve got a spot open.” Wednesday night, Ron surprised me with his question. Unlike past years, we had no plans for Labor Day weekend. Machicomoco State Park kept coming up in conversation as a possibility, when they had a spot available, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Sure!” Arriving just past…

“We off,” Ron said after sticking his phone in the cubby and approving the navigation’s directions. Ten years ago today, we wed. Deciding to make Niagara Falls our celebratory destination took little debate. “So many people get married there; it seems like a good place to go for our anniversary.” Ron had a good point,…

“Off to Watkins Glen, or, as my honey likes to call it, Glen Watkins.” After smiling and flipping Ron off for making fun of my dyslexic moments, we headed to Watkins Glen to recreate a picture of my mother taken Sept. 14, 1957, which she self-titled “Hopeless in Watkins Glen.” Twenty-five years old, she had…

“You wanted to leave at 7:00; it’s 7:00.” “I always feel good when we actually leave for a trip. Something always tries to stop us,” I said as Ron put the Subaru in gear, and we began the 511-mile journey to Upstate New York to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. Ten days in honor of…

“Back in the OBX, Ron said after our “Set up” toast. The weekend begins when Ron cracks open his beer and settles into the blue rocker, spinach dip and chips by his side. Another week gone; how time does fly. Our first time on the inner loop, and we like it so far. The sun…

“We’re in the spot we looked at enviously last time,” I said to Ron. Back in Mt. Pleasant, fondly called Mt. P, we came for the “See Ya at Christmas” party. Our friend’s daughter and family move to Arizona for her husband’s job, leaving Wednesday for their new home. We didn’t want to miss the…