ice in the park

Recently my sister (and brother-in-love) and I met down in Camden to visit my mom for a casual Sunday lunch.  Camden is the enchanting seaside town where I went to high school, and despite not moving there until my later youth after 8 previous moves, I consider it home.  If we could afford it, I would love to live in Camden, with it's sweeping ocean views, multitude of hiking trails, gorgeous homes and infusion of art, education and culture.  It is a liberal, erudite, affluent community full of Subaru-driving, organic eating, local-shopping, health-focused, earth-conscious, community oriented folk. 

At least that's what I think.  I'm sure there are also ding-dong eating, non-recycles among the crowd but, honestly, they aren't really out around town.

My mom lives in a nice apartment building that has other retirement-aged residents.  (My mother is one of the very youthful, still working resident.)  My kids and my sister's kids love to go to Grandma's apartment.  The problem is Grandma lives on the second floor and the oxygen tank wheeling neighbor downstairs isn't overly fond of the thumping feet produced by our very excitable children. 

After a raucous game of hide-and-seek in Grandma's 600 foot apartment (with Kathryn and I saying every other minute, "No running. No shouting.  No screeching.") and a yummy lunch, we took  sprang the kids to the harbor side park to look at the locally made ice sculptures. 

What some people can do with a block of ice is downright amazing, I tell you.

Michaela, Maya and Ella

It was fun to look through this glass goose.


 



Check out the rower!

 

Nothing eccentric to see here...

\