Tuesday Tour: To a T

You know what suits me to a T? Two things that begin with that letter – travel and tea.

Last spring we managed to combine those two. Tired of winter weather, we two empty nesters planned a March road trip to Florida in search of sunshine and a bit of warmth.

Wacky weather greeted us on our way down south from our home in Pennsylvania, but eventually we thankfully basked in some sunshine.  (Posts about that trip can be found in the “missed something?” sidebar, using the drop down menu to click on months June through October 2025.)

One of the places we hoped to visit on the return trip was Charleston, South Carolina because we once planned a spring trip there a couple of years ago but unfortunately needed to cancel that one.  

Charleston is a lovely city, and we enjoyed some historical sightseeing to appease Papa which I’ll chronicle in a future Tuesday Tour post. But before we toured the city, we visited the Angel Tree and then another fascinating spot to whet my appetite for one of my favorite beverages – tea – at the Charleston Tea Garden.

Oh, I was in my element! We entered a lovely visitor center/gift shop to purchase our tour tickets. There we were surrounded by all things tea from tea pots to tea towels and everything in between.

A counter of various hot and iced teas awaited sampling. And sampling we did which resulted in purchasing some delightful Carolina Mint tea bags (black tea with spearmint flavor) to take home and savor. And I found a teapot just calling my name – a lighthouse.

We boarded the tea trolley for a guided tour of the tea plantation, which includes hundreds of thousands of Camellia Sinensis tea bushes used to produce both black and green tea on 127 acres. It was quite impressive.

Not only did we view the tea fields but also inspected the tea garden’s greenhouse, learning how tea plants are cultivated. A factory tour explaining the process it takes to make American-grown tea, particularly the American Classic, the first and only tea in the world made completely from tea leaves grown here in the United States, proved interesting as well.  

Learning the history of American tea was fascinating for both my history-loving husband and me, the tea lover. In the late 1700s, tea bushes were brought from China and introduced in the US.

However, cultivating tea in South Carolina was not successful until 1888 when a gentleman named Dr. Charles Shepard established the Pinehurst Tea Plantation in Summerville, South Carolina and produced tea there until he died in 1915.

The plantation closed and tea plants grew wild for 45 years after that. But in 1963, the tea plants were transplanted for research onto a Wadmalaw Island farm where potatoes once grew.

Since Wadmalaw Island boasts sandy soil, plenty of rain, and a subtropical climate, it soon became the perfect environment for growing tea bushes. However, 24 years passed while scientists studied tea cultivation until the farm became commercial when a third-generation tea taster trained in London, William Barclay Hall, transformed the farm in 1987.

To keep the tea farm from developers purchasing it, the Bigelow family of Bigelow Tea acquired the farm in 2003, renaming it The Charleston Tea Garden. Over 320 varieties of tea are cultivated there, and nine different flavors are produced at America’s oldest and largest tea farm.

Charleston Tea Garden, located at 6617 Maybank Highway, Wadmalaw Island, SC is open to the public year-round Mondays-Saturdays 10 am-4 pm and Sundays 12-4 pm. To find out more, visit www.Charlestonteagarden.com.

Our visit there definitely transported me to a happy place, especially while sipping a nice cold cup of mint iced tea on a warm, sunny day.

“Come, let us have some tea and continue to talk about happy things.” ~ Chaim Potok

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2026

Tuesday Tour: an oldest living tree

This year is rapidly winding down, and my wise father was correct when he reached the age of 90 years on this earth and told me, “The years fly by faster as you get older.”

So here we are already in the month of November and soon 2025 will be pigeonholed on a shelf in our memories.

November marks the month of Thanksgiving but I find there is always something to be thankful for every month. One of those aspects of my life which makes me grateful is that Papa and I have the time to enjoy traveling together since we retired.

So, on this Tuesday Tour post I’m thankful that we had plenty of time to appreciate some other sightseeing on our way home from our early spring trip to Florida this year.

We enjoyed an interesting and mind-boggling stop in Charleston, South Carolina. One spring a couple of years ago, we planned a road trip to this quaint city but cancelled because we both fell victim to a nasty cold.

This time I was delighted that we could experience a couple of the places we had originally scheduled to visit.

One of those was the Angel Oak Tree, which is designated as the largest live oak tree east of the Mississippi River and one of America’s oldest living trees.

This massive tree stands at 66½ feet tall, measures 28 feet in circumference, and provides an extensive shaded area since its branches cover about 17,200 square feet of ground beneath it. Believe it or not!

Another amazing feature of this southern live oak tree is that its longest branch from tip-to-tip measures 187 feet in length. Tree limbs are so huge and heavy they actually touch the ground and in some spots branches must be shored up.

Honestly, the Angel Oak Tree must be seen in person to understand its massive size and my photos don’t really do justice. You can take a virtual tour to see for yourself by clicking here.

Even though it’s free for the public to view this historic tree, Papa and I arrived too early on a Sunday morning (open Monday-Saturday 9 am-5 pm but only 1-5 pm Sundays), so the fence surrounding the tree, protecting it from vandals I imagine, was locked. Therefore, I poked my camera lens through the chain link fence to attempt to capture a decent photo.

The Angel Oak Tree is located in Angel Oak Park on Johns Island and is owned by the city of Charleston, which acquired the land in 1991. Originally the tree stood on land granted to Abraham Waight in 1717.

Waight’s daughter married Justus Angel in 1810. Their family and descendants were property owners of the Angel Estate until sometime in the mid-1900’s. So, angels didn’t miraculously appear on this tree to provide the tree’s name; instead, the name was derived from the Angel family.  

Speculation about the tree’s age varies anywhere from 400 to 1500 years old, depending on the source you read.

However old this tree is, it’s certainly a reminder that some aspects of nature outlast many generations of people. And if the old Angel Oak Tree continues to be preserved – there are a set of visitor rules to protect the tree – it will continue to outlast even more folks, especially us older ones.  

We weren’t the only visitors there that Sunday morning. We had an interesting and enjoyable conversation with another retired couple in the quiet calm of the morning as we gazed at that old tree, and as always found we had some things in common besides age.

And that’s another grateful aspect of traveling I often find.

“I like old people, just as I like old trees: in their shadow there is freshness and peace, one admires them, and around them everything is so calm.” ~ Svetlana Alliluyeva

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2025

Words for Wednesday: hazardous driving

Papa and I moved out of the suburbs over 25 years ago and have never regretted that decision. We live in a rural area, the country. Our home is situated a few miles outside of my small hometown and is surrounded by farmers’ fields and woods.

We love this nice, quiet life we live out here in the country. But I was reminded just the other day that driving down a bucolic, pastoral road can occasionally be a little hazardous.

We were on our way to accomplish some errands via one of our back country roads to eventually utilize a four-lane highway. It was morning and critters who scamper across those roads were out in abundance.

In the course of driving less than a mile, Papa swerved to avoid hitting several of those creatures: first a rabbit, then another small bunny, then a squirrel darted in front of us. Next came a black and white cat who dashed from the blacktop road into the brush just in the nick of time.

Immediately after that, a chipmunk stood in the middle of the road – yes, just standing there staring at us until he scurried off beneath our vehicle. I closed my eyes waiting to hear a crunch under our tires, but Chippie survived to live another day…hopefully.

And finally, chickens sprinted willy-nilly in front of us.  

“Why did the chicken cross the road? To show that even poultry can conquer the obstacles of life with a little bravery and a dash of humor!” ~ Unknown

But seriously, why do those chickens cross the road? In our area, it seems they have a death wish.

Not hearing any thumps and successfully avoiding smooshing any of the road crossing creatures, we then needed to steer around roadkill – a dead opossum here, equally dead raccoon there.

And whoa, when we come across a dead skunk in the middle of the road, it truly does stink to high heaven! (When music artist Loudon Wainwright III released his song “Dead Skunk” in 1972, he knew what he was talking/singing about.)

Also of course, when traveling down our country roads or the highways in rural farmland and wooded areas like ours, drivers must always be prepared for whitetail deer to suddenly leap onto the road in front of you, or run into your vehicle (I experienced that), or stand stock still on the road like a statue (that ‘deer in the headlights’ thing is correct). They also contribute to splattered roadkill to maneuver around while driving.

And a real cause for surprise while traversing in our area is encountering a black bear moseying across our back roads. (That shock happened to one of our kids as a young driver.)

Once Papa and I even spied a bobcat dashing in front of us on a roadway not far from our home. Critters are on the move and that doesn’t even count wild turkeys (I’ve actually had to stop to let a flock cross in front of me), stray dogs, cats, or possibly even a coyote.

It’s certainly never a dull moment here in the country especially while driving our “hazardous” roadways and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

However, we did not expect to be forced to a complete stop on a city street because some beautiful creatures decided to “dance” in front of us. During our visit to Saint Augustine, Florida back in March, a trio of peacocks stopped us in our tracks and they would not yield their “right of way.”

While Papa hit the flashers on our stopped vehicle, I jumped out to first photograph the “dancers” strutting their stuff in a circle directly in front of us and then try to shoo them away. They ignored me and took their own sweet time to move.

Luckily, it was not a heavily trafficked street. I’m not sure if they were trying to impress us or not, but they surely attracted our attention.

“If you see a squirrel (or peacock) trying to cross the road, it’s probably just trying to impress its friends.” ~ Unknown

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2025

Tuesday Tour: Old town

You don’t always get what you want.

When we journeyed on our spur-of-the-moment road trip to Florida back in March, we were in search of some warmer weather and sunshine since winter kept hanging on in our northern state.

However, Florida welcomed us with either a deluge of rain or very chilly weather our first two days there. So we pushed on, dodging rain and piling on warmer clothes to sightsee in our first destination – the city of Saint Augustine.

My husband, Papa in this empty nest, is a history-lover, so he really wanted to visit this city considered to be the oldest in America and founded by Spanish settlers in 1565. We anticipated viewing beautiful, old architecture with a European flavor and plenty of historical sites.

What we didn’t expect yet found was a city with spendy attractions found in plenty of other tourist towns (wax museums, magic shows, pirate shows, ghost tours, etc.) complete with costumed “actors” similar to theme parks and more suitable for families with children than two senior citizens.

When we arrived that rainy morning, we drove around noting the city’s attractions from our vehicle and getting a feel for this northeastern Florida town on the Atlantic coast, which was full of tourists.

We crossed the Bridge of Lions, a picturesque drawbridge that connects downtown Saint Augustine with Anastasia Island, where we viewed the St. Augustine Lighthouse. During the two days we visited the city, we drove several times across that bridge, which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

That afternoon brought sunshine, so we decided to visit an historic place, a Spanish stone fortress dating back to the 1600s, Castillo de San Marcos National Monument, maintained by the National Park Service.

Papa truly enjoyed touring this amazing ancient fortress which the Spanish built to defend the settlement of St. Augustine and a trade route in the Atlantic Ocean.  I enjoyed taking photos, wondering how this place still existed after hundreds of years, and soaking up sunshine there.

Visitors can explore Castillo de San Marcos every day of the week (except Thanksgiving and Christmas) from 9 am to 5 pm and it’s free. If you’re interested, you can take a virtual tour here.

We spent the night in a nice little beach town nearby, Vilano Beach, in a pleasant hotel room with a balcony and friendly staff. That was a plus.

The next morning was very chilly with a threat of rain once more, so we bundled up in warm clothes and opted for a narrated trolley tour of St. Augustine, with 22 spots to hop off or on. Even though we shivered throughout our tour, it provided an easy way to view all the main sights of the city.

The tour included the González-Alvarez House, purported to be the “Oldest House in America.” Historians say that’s not a true statement, but since it was constructed in 1723, the structure is believed to be the oldest surviving Spanish colonial dwelling in St. Augustine.  

That concluded our visit there. We were ready to head south through Daytona and Cocoa Beach in hopes of finding warmer weather and more abundant sunshine for our next day’s destination – the Kennedy Space Center. 

“Look at life through the windshield, not the rear-view mirror.” ~Byrd Baggett, American author/motivational speaker

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2025

Tuesday Tour: magic or not?

Do you ever wish you could just work a bit of magic? Like maybe when things aren’t going your way, you could just blink and change the circumstance. Kind of like the silly genie in the old 1960’s sit com, I Dream of Jeannie.

Or maybe you’d prefer to backtrack to rectify a situation. Work a little magic that way or even do a bit of time travel for that purpose.

After our encounter entering Canada on our summer road trip, we might have wished we could work a little magic like that.

Instead, after a long day of driving, we arrived for a night’s stay in Moncton, New Brunswick. We had hoped to view an oddity of nature which occurs when the Bay of Fundy tides (the highest in the world) surge up the Peticodiac River near Moncton.

This wave of water, called the Tidal Bore, varies in height and rolls back upstream into the normally calm river. Alas, it only occurs twice daily, and we missed it.  But before we called it a day, we found a “magical” little spot nearby.

It’s a hill adjacent to an attraction called Magic Mountain Water Park. Now, we two senior citizens weren’t there for the water park, and anyway, it was not open yet for the season. In researching sights to see in that Canadian province, we found this interesting place called Magnetic Hill.

This tree-lined ordinary hill is considered a “mystery spot.”  Why? Because something mysterious happens when you drive to the bottom of the hill to the white stake, pull over to that side of the road, shift your car into neutral, and take your foot off the brake.

Your car rolls uphill backwards by itself! Like magic!

Don’t believe me? I’ve got the cell phone video to prove it right here! (If you really want to hear our narrative, click on the speaker button.)

Because we were the only vehicle there at the time, we tried this three times. And you know what they say – third time’s a charm.

Is it truly magic? Is it the result of ghostly or alien influence? Turns out this really isn’t a charm but an optical illusion, a phenomenon sometimes called a “gravity hill.”

Inquiring minds like mine want to know how this came to be. So, research had to be done when we got back home.

Apparently, the history of Magnetic Hill goes all the way back to the late 19^th century. Before settlers arrived in the area, an indigenous tribe told stories about this “magic mountain.”  The hill, which was originally just a cart path, was thought to be a sacred place, an enchanted spot with unusual energies.

The unusual energy defied the laws of physics and folks have been trying to solve the geographical riddle for almost 100 years. Once automobiles became a means of transportation, drivers discovered this mysterious marvel.  

And sometime in the 1930’s, a nearby resident, a woman named Muriel Lutes, named this strange hill Magnetic Hill and sold souvenirs and ice cream to visitors. Twenty years later, the site became Canada’s third most popular tourist destination.

But what is behind the magic of this hill? Science has the answer. An optical illusion like this one simply means the surrounding topography tricks your brain.

What appears to be an uphill slope is actually a slight downhill slope. So, when your mind tells you you’re traveling backwards uphill, you’re really coasting downhill.

Gravity isn’t truly being defied, you just succumbed to a trick. But isn’t that what all magic is?

And guess what? We fell for it! Our bubble burst when we discovered Magnetic Hill is really an optical illusion. But it still added a bit of “magical” fun to our long drive that day.

In case you travel to Canada’s New Brunswick province, and you need a little dose of magic, Magnetic Hill can be found off Exit 450 of Trans-Canada Highway 2.

“This world is full of magic if you choose to see it.” ~ Chris Colfer

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024

Tuesday Tour: Oh……Canada!

It was bound to happen sometime.

Papa and I have taken many, many road trips and traveled thousands of miles over the years. We usually return happy and pleased from our journeys and how enjoyable they were. Our latest jaunt – not so much.

We deliberated about a destination for a couple weeks before we settled on one. In my quest to visit all 50 of our United States of America, only five remain.

But three of those are in the deep south and since our trip would take place in June, I didn’t think I could withstand the heat and humidity there. (I am a fair-weather kind of gal.)

That left the other two faraway destinations – Hawaii and Alaska – and we hadn’t allowed enough time to plan for those extensive trips. Besides, we wanted to take yet another road trip.

So, we decided to visit our next-door neighbor country, Canada, where the weather would be cool, and we could trek to the Maritime Provinces where we’d never been before.

Our journey and sights we viewed will be the subject of my Tuesday Tour in the weeks to come. But today, let me tell you why this road trip just didn’t float our boats like we envisioned.

We’ve been to Canada before. Back in the early 1970’s, I traveled there with my parents when we crossed the border to view the Canadian side of Niagara Falls and we enjoyed our stay there. Papa was in Toronto once on a business trip.

Over 20 years ago, our middle daughter played in a weekend soccer tournament in Buffalo, New York, and we spent some time in between games in Canada so our teenaged kids also could visit Niagara Falls.  

Easy peasy. Crossing the border years ago simply meant stopping at the checkpoint, showing a driver’s license as ID, answering a few simple questions, and driving into that country.

But times have certainly changed and now, it’s very different. We did our research though. We had our passports in hand. We checked to make sure Papa’s cell phone would be accessible there.

We determined whether food and produce could be brought legally into the country and packed a cooler with simple lunch items, water, and snacks. We exchanged some American dollars for Canadian ones and ensured our major credit card would be accepted as well.

We researched places to sightsee, made hotel reservations for each day of our trip, and devised an itinerary for New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and Nova Scotia.

We were prepared, we thought. But we weren’t prepared for some minor mishaps and a few disappointments we encountered along the way.

Our first long day of driving occurred without a hitch. We drove from our home in Pennsylvania all the way to Maine where we spent the night.

Since we’d already traveled through New England in the past, we omitted stopping except for gas, rest area stops, a picnic lunch, and a restaurant dinner.

We were excited to drive to the U.S./Canada border the next day. And that’s when our trip began to go somewhat awry.

Crossing into Canada wasn’t easy peasy for these two old polite, law-abiding, and hard of hearing senior citizens who had no contraband whatsoever in their vehicle.

After a scolding for a misunderstanding on our part for which we apologized profusely, we were more than thoroughly questioned by the border agent, including the need to produce an itinerary.

Then we were detained in the checkpoint building while our car was searched. 

We totally understand and appreciate the need for caution when crossing another country’s border, but the first agent seemed annoyed with us, although others we encountered were nice.

In an effort to not cause an “international incident,” (just kidding) I won’t go into details about what happened next. But I will say it ended with an over exuberant search dog who wasn’t on a leash and me.

Feeling a bit unnerved and a tad upset afterwards, we put it behind us and drove to our first destination in New Brunswick, a neat place to see. Rain arrived so we opted for a picnic lunch in our vehicle. Opening up the back of our SUV to access the cooler, we found muddy dog paw prints over everything.

Not fun, but oh well, we shrugged that off. However, a little black cloud just seemed to follow us for the rest of the trip.

We traveled during what’s called the “shoulder season,” the off season, but some of the places we had hoped to visit were closed, had shorter hours of operation, or were difficult to find.

I can’t tell you how many trips we made through a round-about in an effort to find an advertised visitor’s center which was supposed to be there but just wasn’t.

Again, time consuming and not fun, but oh well.

After many miles and hours of driving without spotting any interesting scenery or places to stop, we arrived at our hotel for our first night in Canada. The next day, we traveled to Prince Edward Island and enjoyed our day there.

But on our second day on the island, we drove to sights we planned to view and found a couple were not quite as impressive as we thought they’d be.

Not a lot of fun.

Finding no other spots we were interested in seeing by early afternoon, we realized we had a long wait to catch the 6 p.m. ferry to Nova Scotia which we had reserved and paid for in advance. We drove there hoping to find a town in the vicinity and perhaps some little shops in which to occupy our time.

Nope, just the ferry dock, so basically, we waited. Just sat in our vehicle in our assigned lane, with only one car ahead of us, for a couple hours. Papa read on his Kindle, and I worked some crossword puzzles and also read.

Not really fun.

When the ferry arrived and it was our turn to board, Papa maneuvered our vehicle down a narrow ramp into that huge vessel’s bowels and unfortunately, that little black cloud appeared again.

Suddenly, I experienced claustrophobia as we were crammed in with cars on all sides of us in that ferry’s lower level, where it was hot and smelling of diesel fuel and exhaust. I couldn’t wait for the signal to exit our car and run up the couple levels of stairs to the outside deck of the ferry.

Not fun, but once I was out in the fresh, chilly air, I was okay and the 75-minute ferry ride itself was quite enjoyable.

Thankfully, disembarking was fast since we were the second car loaded, but we still endured another long drive late in the evening to our hotel. We arrived tired and a bit unhappy with how our trip was going.

Not fun.

That’s when we discussed whether we wanted to cut our excursion short. And we did. Papa logged onto his laptop, we changed our itinerary and cancelled some hotel reservations, so we’d leave for home sooner.

By then, I encountered another irritation.  Some kind of insect feasted on me when we walked to view a lighthouse the day before.  I didn’t see the bug, just felt something under my sunglasses and flicked it away. I didn’t realize I had been bitten until that night when my cheek began to itch.

I applied some anti-itch cream (I’m always prepared with a first aid kit) and turned in for the night. The next morning, I awakened to a fiery red cheek with a hard center surrounding the bite mark and swelling.

Not fun.

As the day went on, my cheek became even more inflamed and swollen. Papa also was bitten but did not have an extreme reaction like mine.

Nevertheless, we continued with our abbreviated trip agenda and truly had a pleasurable time in Nova Scotia. However, by evening, the left side of my face had ballooned. Swelling spread towards my nose and up into my eyelid.

My eye wasn’t swollen shut, thank goodness, but I looked a little like Popeye the Sailor Man, (without the muscles and pipe!) and the rock hard center around the bite mark was larger, it hurt a little, and had started to ooze.

Not fun and somewhat disconcerting.

We had driven back to New Brunswick by then and decided if the swelling hadn’t subsided by morning, we’d depart Canada and locate an urgent care center once we returned to the U.S.

Of course, it wasn’t any better the next morning, and my eyelid was prominently swollen by this time. The attraction we planned to view was fogged over, and we also realized our timing was way off to experience the phenomenon we’d hoped to see.

Not fun and disappointing.

We scratched the remaining sightseeing stops off our list and opted to head for the border, a couple hours drive. Filling up with gas in a small Canadian town, I noticed a large grocery store with a pharmacy.

Thinking perhaps purchasing some Benadryl would alleviate the swelling, we parked and attempted to enter the building at a door directly under the pharmacy sign, which seemed the logical way to access that part of the store.

Wrong idea! As Papa pulled on the handle to open the door, a loud alarm blared. Really? Black cloud again!

Not fun.

We sheepishly walked to the next door – couldn’t get in there either. Turns out only one door gained entrance into the store. Once inside, I grabbed the over-the-counter med from a shelf but hesitated and decided to ask the pharmacist for help.

He was very nice, thank goodness. He asked me several questions but was concerned the Benadryl would make me too drowsy. Instead, he personally found another generic (and less expensive) allergy med for me.

After cautioning me to take it for only a week and see my doctor if my issue didn’t improve, I assured him I would as we were on our way back to the States.

Can you believe we couldn’t figure out which door to use to leave the store and returned to the cashier to inquire about that? Even though there were several doors, only one of them allowed customers to exit.

By this time, we were more than ready to just go home.

Crossing back into the U.S. was simple and when the American border agent said, “Welcome home,” I wanted to shout “Hooray!” I jokingly told Papa I felt like we should stop the car, get out, and kiss the ground.

Okay, I’ll admit I got a bit emotional and weepy when I noticed an American flag flying in the breeze after we crossed the border into Maine. I was that relieved to be on our way home.

We endured another long drive south – unfortunately caught in rush-hour (which should be called rush hours) traffic around Boston – to our Connecticut hotel.

Finally, 3000 miles and way too much time spent in our vehicle later, we arrived home safe and sound. And oh, by the way, the swelling eventually reduced but the bite mark remained for about a week. I’m happy to report I had no other ill effects.

We didn’t suffer any major problems, for which we are very grateful, just minor irritations. So we’ll chalk this one up to adventures in travel – whether they be wonderful or not so great. But it won’t stop us from road tripping.

And in the next few weeks, I promise happier versions about our trip to Canada will be posted.

“Because the greatest part of a road trip isn’t arriving at your destination. It’s all the wild stuff that happens along the way.” ~ Emma Chase

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024

Tuesday Tour: the final garden

Sunset was nearing. Our hotel awaited us on our trip homeward. But we were determined to arrive at our last visit of the day.

The last beautiful quilt-pattern designed flower garden awaited us on our driving tour of Elkhart County’s Quilt Gardens on the Heritage Trail in Indiana.

This final garden winds up not only our 2023 summer road trip west but also this series of Tuesday Tour posts showcasing the quilt gardens we viewed.

We arrived at The Farmhouse Inn Bed and Breakfast at 1061 Parkwood Drive in Nappanee, Indiana to view the Grist Mill Garden.

With Super Olympia White Green Leaf Begonias; Easy Wave Yellow Petunias; Compact Electric Orange Sunpatiens; and Snaptastic Orange Flame Snapdragons all planted in a large garden plot in front of a red barn, it didn’t disappoint.

The historic Farmhouse Inn was first constructed by an Amish farmer from Ohio in 1840 long before the town of Nappanee was established in 1874. Christian Stahly constructed the house and barn for his family and also built a home for his son.

The original farmhouse underwent restoration over the decades and became a bed and breakfast inn in the 1990’s. The historical significance of the barn on the property is that Amish families in the area once attended church there.

Today, this rooster keeps watch over the site while visitors stay in the B&B which consists of eight themed bedrooms.  

This summer, a new quilt garden entitled Indian Sunburst can be seen at the inn.

The 2024 all-new quilt gardens throughout Elkhart County were planted the end of May and can be seen all summer. To see design patterns for the 2024 quilt gardens, click here.

If you’re interested in visiting the gardens, click here for the 2024 driving tour map.

On a whim, we discovered the lovely quilt gardens when we exited the highway in search of a place to eat lunch in Elkhart, Indiana. How glad we were to have taken that little detour off the beaten path on our way home.

The driving tour produced an enjoyable and pleasant summer excursion through a county we’d never visited before. Someday perhaps we’ll return to investigate the area more thoroughly.

Until then, we have fond memories. And more road trips to pursue.

“Look on every exit being an entrance somewhere else.”  ~ Tom Stoppard

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024

Tuesday Tour: no place like home

Most of us of a certain age probably remember hearing an old song entitled Home Sweet Home with the lyrics, “be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.”

That ballad, written for an 1823 opera by American songwriter John Howard Payne and English composer Sir Henry Bishop, became popular especially during America’s Civil War days.

I think I either learned that song when I was an elementary school student or someone in my family taught it to me ages ago. However, those lyrics came back to my mind during our 2023 summer road trip.

We were on our last leg of the Elkhart County’s Quilt Gardens on the Heritage Trail driving tour in Indiana when we entered Nappanee, a quaint small town.

With such an unusual name, I wondered if the town acquired its moniker from a Native American language and sure enough, Nappanee is thought to have been derived from the Algonquian word meaning flour.

I don’t know how much if any flour might be produced in this small town, but they certainly have beautiful flowers!

Last summer’s quilt-designed flower garden located at the Nappanee Center, 302 West Market Street, proved to be a sweet, pleasant place.

The garden itself, with the theme Home Sweet Home, was designed in the form of a house with Super Olympia Pink Green Leaf Begonias; Cocktail Vodka Red Bronze Leaf Begonias; Aloha Blue Ageratum; Dragon Black Coleus; and Aloha White Ageratum plants.

We were treated not only to a view of the quilt garden but also a 10×10 foot quilt patterned mural on an adjacent building. Appropriately named Grandmother’s Flower Garden, the mural depicted a quilt design very familiar to me.

My own mother made several quilts using that pattern, which became the most popular quilt design back in 1935.

We appreciated another aspect at Nappanee Center’s outdoor space – this Scripture written by the Apostle Paul etched in concrete at the garden.

We also couldn’t help but notice several colorful bird houses hanging nearby. They were the result of a Home Sweet Home Birdhouse Decorating Contest, sponsored in part by Friends of the Nappanee Public Library.

For those who needed a moment of rest, a park bench, flanked by potted flowers, provided a pleasant spot as shown in the beginning of my post.

We would have relished a longer stay in that lovely town, nestled among beautiful farmland and an Old Order Amish community, but needed to arrive at our last quilt garden before sunset.

As we departed, my final thought was that Nappanee would be a nice place to call home.

For those fortunate enough to live there, I bet they do appreciate their home sweet home. And they will also enjoy this summer’s quilt-themed garden, Tracking Our Beginnings, which was recently planted.

“Home is the nicest word there is.” ~ Laura Ingalls Wilder

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024

Words for Wednesday: Sunday afternoon surprise

Road trips.  Sunday drives. If you’ve been a follower of this empty nester blog, you’ll know for certain that the two of us love to travel by car.

I recently read this quote somewhere: “Sometimes all you need is a great friend and a full tank of gas.”

I agree with that sentiment but would amend it to needing my spouse along with that full tank of gas. He does most of the driving on our adventures while I survey the scenery from my passenger front seat.

Being retired has its definite advantages. We usually can just pick up and go whenever we want with little time restrictions. And that’s what we did one recent Sunday afternoon.

That day was a pleasant one for a change – sunshine, warmer weather, NO RAIN. We came home from church and as sometimes happens, we just felt the need to go somewhere. When you’re retired, you can get a tad weary of being at home a lot.

So, we jumped in our vehicle, ascertained we had a full tank of gas, and headed down the highway. Where should we go?

We discussed that but had no destination in mind. Just take a Sunday drive which we haven’t done much because well…gas prices tell that story.

The afternoon was ours for the taking. No schedule. Nothing needing our immediate attention. No babysitting our nearest grandchild. We were free for the entire rest of the day and evening.

We drove through some familiar areas in another county and then ventured farther where we hadn’t been in many years. Let’s just take this road. Let’s see where we end up. Let’s check this out.

On we traveled. But little did we expect to find a surprising sight. We came to a T intersection on a country road and our eyes popped wide open because there was a waterfall directly in front of us. A gorgeous waterfall not where we expected to see one.

But you know, the RAIN…we’ve had so much of it across our state this spring. And even though we were out of our own county, we saw signs of an abundance of rainfall everywhere.

However, we never envisaged a rushing, gushing waterfall right there in front of our eyes. We never even knew one existed in that county and I imagine it’s not normally so full of cascading water.

Oh, it was so pretty crashing down over the rocky cliff in that very wooded area. And the roar of it (okay, not even remotely comparable to huge waterfalls like Niagara Falls) was just so exciting to hear, somehow making me happy.

I didn’t think to grab my camera before we left the empty nest, but I did have my cell, so I snapped a few photos.

From there we traveled into a small city that I haven’t visited in almost 50 years. A few aspects seemed familiar but most of the town did not. Changes, progress maybe, but also some signs of deterioration and disuse.

But then I spied some church buildings that begged to be photographed. Old churches, time worn, but still lovely in their own ways.

Ethnic churches. Some no longer used for services. Some still hanging on.

And this one, with its beautiful entryway.

I captured a couple photos, we drove on, and took the long way home. A pleasurable Sunday drive along the scenic route provided surprises along the way.

Road trip adventures. I’ll never get tired of them.

“Always take the scenic route, you never know what adventures you will find.” ~ Anonymous

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024

Tuesday Tour: fly or fry?

Some people consider the midwestern United States to be “fly-over country” – deemed uninteresting - because they’ve never taken the time to visit that area on their flying treks from one coast to the other.

Calling any of our states inconsequential places might just make me see red though. When someone utters that, I envision him/her jumping from the frying pan right into the fire.

In other words, it burns me up. I don’t appreciate any part of our country being disrespected sight unseen. Why? Because you don’t know unless you’ve been there. 

And if you’ve never been on the ground seeing some fascinating places in so-called “fly-over country,” you don’t know what you’re missing.

On today’s Tuesday Tour, let me show you one quirky spot Papa and I found on our trek homeward through Iowa, sometimes called a boring, fly-over state, on our western road trip last summer.

It would be difficult for anything to jump out of Iowa’s Largest Fryin’ Pan located in Brandon. The claim to fame for this tiny little town is a giant-sized frying pan modeled to scale after a 10-inch cast iron skillet.

Why on earth? I’ll tell you why from the information I gleaned from a placard displayed at the site, which is located at the Brandon Area Community Center just off Main Street. 

Back in 2004, local volunteers constructed the giant-sized frying pan. The purpose was to promote the town’s Cowboy Breakfast, a fundraiser that has been held every year since 2000 to benefit the construction and maintenance of the community center.

The pan, which took volunteers 41 hours to construct, weighs 1,020 pounds and is 8 feet across its base and 9 feet, 3 inches at the rim. The handle measures 5 feet making the entire length of this frying pan 14 feet, 3 inches.

That is one whopper of a pan! We actually use a regular sized 10-inch cast iron skillet here in Mama’s Empty Nest’s kitchen but at most, we could probably cook five or six eggs at a time in it.  But if someone wanted to make eggs in Iowa’s largest fryin’ pan, it would take 14 dozen (528 eggs) to fill it up.

Likewise, a 10-inch skillet could hold four pork chops, but 352 half-pound chops would be needed to fill this giant. And when it comes to bacon, we can fry a pound of bacon in our skillet, but this monster pan could fry up 88 pounds all at once!

Lest you think I’m mathematically or spatially inclined, I didn’t just figure all of this out myself; that info is posted on the display sign to the right of Iowa’s biggest frying pan.

Papa’s and my church holds fundraiser breakfasts once a month January through March, but we don’t even come close to the crowd turnouts that Brandon’s Cowboy Breakfasts serve – an average of 1000 people each year.

The Cowboy Breakfast is held annually on the third Sunday of September and includes scrambled eggs, ham, sausage, pancakes, fried potatoes, sausage gravy, and baking powder biscuits (yum, yum) all cooked over open fires outside in cast iron frying pans or Dutch ovens.

Now that sounds like a breakfast worth stopping for instead of flying over, doesn’t it?

While we were enjoying our short little visit to Iowa’s Largest Fryin’ Pan, of course I was taking photos of the pan and six-foot-tall Papa standing in front of it to give perspective on how big it was.

We were the only sightseers there and since Brandon’s a quiet little town, there wasn’t much traffic. Suddenly, a car pulled in, a man hopped out, and volunteered to take a photo of both of us standing in front of this fun little find.

He was pleasant and kind and didn’t mind taking some time from where he was going to stop and assist us. As we chatted a bit with him, he shared with us that he helps at the Cowboy Breakfast every year.

Those are the kind of friendly folks you can find in “fly-over country.” They’re the type of people who make visiting some of our more rural areas enjoyable.

And often it’s not just the grand sights we see but the out-of-the way little moments that make life fun.

“Now it’s the little moments that stop me in my tracks because that’s what life is all about.” ~ Joanna Gaines

©mamasemptynest.wordpress.com 2024