We went to Lititz, a town in Lancaster Country, where we once again learned how to twist a pretzel. It was considered a skilled job and paid 6 cents an hour. Only cigar rollers made more at 10 cents an hour. Julius had 14 kids (two wives with seven each) who all worked in the bakery.
Then on to Portland, ME, where we had a delicious lobster dinner with Patrick, who managed to eat very well, even with a cast on his hand. It poured rain - poured - but stopped in time for us to drive away in the morning. We've been so lucky with the weather. Maybe I shouldn't say that.
Yesterday we were allowed to cross the border after Cricket the dog sniffed around Homer and sent us on our way to St. John, New Brunswick. This is one of their markets.
Another market has these fun carvings at the elevator. I think I know that guy.
See? Green everywhere?
No matter where we travel . . . . .