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 I love going on vacation, but I love coming back even more.




I'll tell you about the most remarkable activities for me.

I will try briefly…


We spent one night out of 3 in a tent. (We actually planned to have 2 nights in a tent, but the weather decided for us). 









We visited Sugarbush Farm and Billings Farm & Museum, stopped at a store selling sheds and cottages, looked at the cider production process (Woods cider Mill), met with a representative of the company that will drill a well on our site, and asked questions to city officials. 


And, of course, we admired the beauty of the season. It’s a pity that we couldn’t stop on the highway for photography. 

At this time of the year, tourists travel to Vermont and New Hampshire specifically to admire the foliage.


Daniel heard about the town of Woodstock even before the vacation. Therefore, we began to look for sights that can be seen there. As the first attraction, Google gave us The Sugarbush Farm.

Google says: “Rural farm producing cheese varieties & maple syrups, with walks to view the tree-tapping process.”


Here's what I learned:


A tree must be at last 40 years old in order for it to be tapped. 

The maple sugar season is about 6 weeks long and usually starts in late February or early March. 

Maple sap is the combination of water that is stored in the tree’s roots and natural maple sugar which was produced the precious simmer in the tree. 

The farm needs about 1500 gallons of sap before they have enough to begin evaporation. 

The amount of syrup produced depends on the amount of sugar in the sap and is different every year.


For more technical information on this topic go on the Internet though.


In my opinion, in summer, the main attraction of the farm is the view and the store. 

In the store you can buy maple syrup, lollipops, magnets, hats and all sorts of souvenirs.


By the way, they (farm) also produce cheese there and give you free samples. Unfortunately, I wasn't hungry (that was really unusual), and Daniel tried the cheese (that was ever more unusual).










I almost forgot! There is a map on the farm where tourists mark with pins where they come from. Do you remember the map at Shelly's tea? So, 2 people from Tomsk have already visited Woodstock, Vermont. Two!!!




The next attraction from Google was Billings Farm and Museum. 

Google says: “Working farm & museum dedicated to scientific-farming history, with interactive exhibits & demos.”

We didn't go to the museum. We walked around the visitor center: again a souvenir shop, an apple orchard, an active vegetable garden and a beautiful view of the mountains.


On the way back, in the parking lot, we talked to a local television correspondent. At first I thought it was just a simple “ American small talk”. But then it turned out he needed a few people who wanted to get on TV. And Daniel didn’t mind. 


In the evening at the hotel, we watched TV with the phone in our hands so that we could make a video about the video. We have never been so interested in local news!!! Already at home in New Bedford, I found a link to that interview.

Here












Another attraction of Vermont (according to Google) was The Woods Cider Mill. 

The day we went there was cloudy, cool and slightly drizzling. But we spent an hour there, if not more. The owner offered to watch the “process”. 

Of course, we did not see how the apples were washed and crushed, but we were very impressed by what we saw. Unfortunately I was too shy to take a lot of pictures or videos. 

Here's what came out with a little I had.






About the farm

It is a family business founded in 1798. Currently, the business is managed by the 6th and 7th generations. They raise dairy and meat cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, keep bees and make apple cider and maple syrup.  

Most of what they produce is for family use or sold locally, but the maple syrup and cider products, their main income source, they distribute further from home. Via their website you can arrange delivery = buy and receive by mail. 

Fortunately Daniel and I will not need such a service, because the farm is a 20-minute (or so) drive from our site.


By the way, we bought a gallon of apple cider and a jar of apple jelly. Jelly is very concentrated. I already tasted it at home with French toast - it's delicious. It has nothing to do with applesauce, which I have disliked since childhood.



Old Church, Claremont, NH



Old building, Claremont, NH






Well, that's all about our interesting activities.

I will add links below as usual. 


P.S. A friend of mine (from Russia) said that we purchased not cider but apple juice. I decided to make it clear (at least for myself).

The difference between apple juice and cider, according to Southern Living magazine:

Apple cider is fresh, unfiltered, and often unpasteurized. It's also considered a seasonal drink and can be hard to find outside of the autumn months. Apple juice, on the other hand, is filtered and pasteurized, which gives it a long shelf life, a sweeter taste, and a smoother texture.


Links:

https://sugarbushfarm.com/

https://www.woodscidermill.com/about

https://billingsfarm.org/

https://rt106market.com/















 When I made it to work today, I really wanted to swear. Swear and complain to someone. 

However, I didn't want to worry my husband and didn’t feel like going on social media.

I don’t want to become a constant whiner. I just needed to vent.

I briefly told a colleague my driving adventure and changed the conversation to the Carnegie book I read last night. 


In the book I stopped at the quote “think and act cheerfully and you will feel cheerful”.



Very soon I became busy and forgot about  what happened in the morning.

And in the afternoon, I heard a phrase that made my day..


But you need to know the whole story:


A young man was  coming in and out of the library. He smelled of alcohol and wet clothes (rain is finally here). He didn't do anything wrong, he didn't say anything nasty, just was annoying, asking personal questions. It would be better if he just went home.



- Do you speak another language? - He asked me.

- No, - I refused to talk.


After 3 hours, I really wanted him to go home.


But he actually managed to "make my day":

Quota from him:

- Every time I get out of prison, I come to the library…


🤣 🤣 🤣


It was 2 and a half hours before I called it for a day. I was cheerful all these 2 and a half hours. 


At home, I shared this quote with my husband. We laughed together.


I didn’t spoil our evening by complaining about the morning drive.

But I will vent here, LOL.

 


The story is that my way to work looked like running in a circle. I just couldn't get onto Highway 18. All streets leading to Highway 18 were closed, and the open ones were in the opposite direction. 

After the 3rd attempt, I gave up on the 18th and drove to work across the city.

I wasn't late, but it took me a lot more time and nerves. 




My question: who and how coordinates the people who do roadworks in the city? They definitely don’t coordinate with each other.

Really annoying!!!


Is this the case everywhere? Or only in small cities?




  



 I was about ready to forget my Russian superstitions. But my husband likes me being myself.


On the weekend, we cut the fallen (blooming, but beginning to fall down due to lack of support)  gladiolus to bring home. All are pink. Who knows what happened to our gladiolus all of them are pink now.





In Russia, people make bouquets of flowers only in odd numbers. 

Even numbers of flowers are used for the cemeteries and funerals. 


I mentioned this to my husband. But, honestly, I was ready for even numbers. I was ready, and he wasn't, he pointed to exactly 3 of them. 

Daniel makes a good laugh at my omens and beliefs, but still respects them.


However, it seems I am losing my Russian soul. 


Another superstition: don’t sew just before leaving the house. 


My opinion is it all depends on what you are sewing. 

For example, sewing a hole in the dress you were going to leave the house in is a bad omen. But a friend of mine believes that any sewing (before leaving home) is not good. 

 

Last fall I worked on a bathroom rug project. It required a lot of work: cut old jeans (or jeans-like pants) into small pieces and sew them in a certain pattern. I don’t remember how long it took me. But almost every morning before leaving for work, I spent 30 min on sewing. In the morning, in the evening, on a day off, until it was done. 

While working on this rug, I didn't even think about the superstition. 

I just wanted to finish it.


It’s interesting to notice small (are they really small?) changes in myself. The way my mind changes focus.

The main thing is not to start imposing my opinion on others, but go my own way, change over time (if necessary). In Russia, we used to say "keep up with the times".

I truly believe some of these omens will stay with me forever, hopefully only positive ones. 


Let’s see what happens next. 



 I knew it, I always knew it! Oh, no, I didn't know, I felt it! 


I'm writing a post, emotions are beating over the edge... I don't know where to start from/ who to start with... the post is being written thanks to my husband, but I'll start with dad.


To begin with, my dad was a “storyteller.” 

No, he didn't write fairy tales, he told them.

The main fairy tale of our family: the swarthiness of the skin and brown eyes were inherited by him and my younger sister from the great-great-grandmother of a gypsy who ran away from the gypsy camp. 

Look at our photos, how different we are.






Our parents told us that I looked like my grandfather (dad's dad), and my sister looked like my grandmother (his mother). 

To be honest, I believed in it as a child. As I grew up, I began to doubt whether my parents would come up with anything. I don't even know about Dad, if he believed his own words. You can't ask now.


When dad was no longer with us, but the Internet and social media networks appeared, I wanted to find people with the same surname. It turned out that there are no such people in Tomsk. Not a single one. The men (dad, grandfather, dad's son from his first marriage) died, the women got married and changed their surnames, my grandmother died when I was 3 years old.


But there were many namesakes in Kazan*. The question arose: maybe my grandfather was a Tatar? But he was blond!


My Grandfather



There were no questions with my mother's relatives. She comes from a village near Tomsk (22 mi). Most likely, her ancestors have always lived there and most likely they are Russian. And she didn't tell any fairy tales.


And I didn't have much time to think about nationality at that time.


Then my parents died.

Then the divorce happened. And with it, I’ve made the decision that I want to move to another country.

My first thought was about Finland. I didn’t know why (I know now).

 I still call Finland the country of my dreams.

I've never been there, I haven't even read anything about it. But for some reason I thought that I would be at home there. 



Why am I writing all this?


My (current) husband gave me a DNA test as a birthday gift. 

Many of my English-speaking friends have done such tests. Someone found a stepsister, someone found cousins and cousins of the parents. 

I understood that I would not find relatives in America. But I became curious, who am I?


And so, Daniel gave me a test, I collected saliva, created an account and sent the test by mail, and two months later I received the result.


It says:


Your DNA is most similar to DNA from these 4 regions of the world:

Eastern Europe and Russia - 61%

The Baltic States - 26%

Eastern European Roma (Gypsies) - 8%

Finland - 5%



!!!!!!!!


I couldn't believe my eyes!!!

It turns out Dad's fairy tales were NOT fairy tales. And my desire to go to Finland is not just a flighty fantasy. 

And now I know for sure that I am not an Asian  woman, as my husband teases me. Daniel says his wife lived right above China. And this is Asia, so I'm Asian. Yes, but only by place of birth.


Now the website offers me to start creating a family tree, for money. But I have no data about the ancestors, only fairy tales....


My Dad

My Mom




Questions?

Opinions. 

Feel free to tell me. 




*Kazan is a city in southwest Russia. The capital of the Republic of Tatarstan.


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazan










 It is my day off. I went to the rendezvous today…rendezvous with the ocean. 



Good thing I don't need to make an appointment for this. I hate appointments. LOL.


When I first moved to New Bedford, the ocean was WOW! for me. I admired it, its power, waves, wind, smell, boats, even seaweed, and huge seagulls, of course. 

I was collecting seashells and taking them home every time until…

Until I get used to the fact that the ocean is here, it’s not going anywhere. And I am here too.


Sometimes I can smell it in my backyard, if the wind is blowing in the right direction. I am happy to know that yes, there is an ocean 15 minutes away from here. But I hardly find the time to visit it. Pity.

My colleague talked about her hobbies, something like she needs to find a new hobby…

I am thinking, should I create a hobby of visiting the ocean once a month? Can I call it a hobby?  Maybe it’s better to call it a tradition? 

What do we need to create a new tradition? A company, a reason, or a wish? Or just a reminder that we are living NOW.



The salty air and the sun made my skin sticky. But, man, I like the ocean. The sounds of the waves calms the anxiety of hurrying and trying to manage as much as possible on a day off, and blunts the guilt that I didn't bring the dog with me. Crackle likes to walk on the beach, where the smells are very different from the city smells. But the best time to do it is at 5 in the morning, when good-behaved dogs are asleep. And with Crackle on a leash, forget about calming down and enjoying the walk even with no other dogs on the horizon.  


Today was my day, my long deserved rendezvous.


A fly in the ointment: unfortunately little black flies also live now. I couldn’t sit and enjoy the ocean view for long. These gnats were hungry and annoying. So, I blew a kiss to the ocean and left feeling happier.  


Fort Phoenix today