
Smith Family Farm

Stream on Smith Farm

Sacred Grove

Sacred Grove

Sacred Grove

Joseph’s Loft Bedroom

Palmyra LDS Temple

Original hearthstones where the plates were hidden

Original floorboards in Smith Family Farmhouse

Family Room

Smith Family Farm

food, crochet, merriment
Does anyone know what kind of flower this is?

Look closely. The first person who guesses correctly will win a prize. I’m not sure what yet–but of course it will be wonderful. Spectacular even.
Here’s a hint: It’s not something I ever hoped to see…ever.
Guess away–and I’ll announce the winner and the prize on Monday August 3 at 10:00 am.
Good luck my dah-lings!

Please insert one verse of Willie Nelson singing, “On the Road Again.” What are those roller coaster-y things in front of us any way? We don’t drive on stuff like that where I come from.

Don’t worry. New York roads aren’t this steep. I was just trying to be artsy, but instead I think it’s making me carsick….

Ooooh—looky. Another toll booth. What a shockeroo. I told you…they are everywhere.

About midway, we pulled over for a roadside picnic.

My personal favorite item? Mini bananas! Who knew such a thing existed? Maybe they are from some teeny tiny tropical island, with really small people on it. ha ha
I crack myself up.

These cute babies just keep popping up.
Just a tad more driving and finally, finally we reach our destination—

Niagara Falls! Do you feel like you are stuck in the middle of some crazy people’s home movies? Well, that my friend, if because you ARE!

Be brave, little piglet. This place was cool—even from the American side.

The babies didn’t have passports to cross over to the Canadian side…

where most of the post cards come from.

It was simply beautiful…and big and loud and steep…

and no–we are not going down there to get reeally close.
In fact, this romantic place felt much safer for some of us, behind a sturdy glass wall. Can you say CHICKEN LIVER?
Yeah, that’s me.

It did, however, inspire a few folks to do some outrageous things.
Honestly, the nerve of some people.
—————
We found this random, obscure, completely perfect county fair while we were messing around in the calm portion of New York. County fairs are essential to your eternal salvation. I’ve no idea how–but I’m sure it’s true.

Of course, the first stop is anywhere where the guys can shoot something….anything.

And we can watch them and…clap.

Luckily, the other booths weren’t quite manly enough to get our guys’ attention—
because they wanted to save up all their primal caveman instincts for a ride like this.

You know, one that gives them the sensation that their brain matter is shooting out their nose.
No, no. I don’t get it either…but we watched…we clapped.

Help me understand why we even let these goof-balls drive, let alone be the president?

In my opinion, this is a more rational ride–floating through the air with your eyes closed—like you’re on an old fashioned rope swing—now that need I could respect. Hmmmmm….lovely.
Moving on to a few “firsts.”

First time for these human babies to meet these farm babies.

First time for them to have a helmet strapped on their heads–and by a pirate, no less.

First time to ride a real live pony. This little dude is a natural. He was so comfortable that he actually started falling asleep and tipping over.

Real fake pony ride–on the carousel–big first. They loved the music and kept trying to wave their hands and dance. Note to babies: No dancing on the Merry-go-round, and scaring Grammy half to death. Just hang onto the pole.
Sheesh.

Baby Chompy–bored with, or overwhelmed by all the fuss. This, however, is not a first.

Watching babies take a swirly ride in a big pink chicken–yeah, that was a first.

Watching their daddy—the dare devil of the entire, roller coaster universe—turn greener (is that a word?) and greener (I guess it is), with each round. Pretty funny first, although, I will admit–we were never quite sure if he was goofing around or ready to hurl.

Oh, the crazy lights…

the powdered sugar waffles…

the plethora of goats…

and the indescribable deep fried, peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Oh. It. Was. Fabulous.
No, this is not a good time to tell me about the evils of fried food.
Fortunately–everyone knows that calories don’t count when you’re on vacation.
Good thing.

A baby ordering room service…

and he did one fine job, I might add.

Tons of forests and marshy land. We live in what is commonly referred to as a desert–so we were duly impressed. In our world, lush green is a tough commodity to come by in the middle of July.

These fabulous, ancient farmhouses kept popping all over the place. I want them. All of them. Pretty sure I annoyed everyone by shouting, “Look at that one!” every 20 seconds. I was powerless to stop it.

Lyndi and I did break up the monotony by shrieking, “BEAVER!” and leaping from the car before it came to a complete stop, so that we could get a picture of the little guy. He had a big problem with two crazed women sprinting across his meadow towards him, I guess. The bad sport jumped into this canal pipe before I could get my camera turned on.
We saw the very first beaver I’ve ever seen, in my entire life.
I just can’t prove it.

We met back up with Jillian for a tour up “the hill.” You know, the big, steep, switch-backy, smallish mountain. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. I was expecting to have to pay for a pack mule or camel or something to get me up this thing. The treadmill work must be paying off. Lucky for me because they were all out of beasts of burden.

She showed us the creepy pagan idols that are used as props in the play. Good thing we don’t worship those nasty looking things. What are they suppose to be anyway? yikes.

This is what 7000 seats looks like from the moon—I mean, the top of the hill. You can’t really tell, but we are standing just back from a very steep, deadly edge of this hill. I mean, you could seriously plunge to your death from this place. yikes again.

We saw the Angel Moroni Monument…so pretty.

and headed back down the foresty side of the hill.

Oh, Chompy was impressed with all this, let me tell you.

Back on the road and passing more of those houses that I want…
need…
ok, covet.

One Chill and Grill Hamburger. Yum.

One Chill and Grill “Junk Plate” for The Bald Kid. Let this be a lesson to you. Never assume that anything called a junk plate could possibly taste…you know, good. It was hard to watch–and harder to sit by. Blaugh…

Now this chicky has the right idea.

Tons of beautiful church steeples. You’ll just have to trust me that there were churches attached.

We took the tour through the 150 year old Grandin Printing Company. Scoff if you will, but we actually like this kind of stuff.

Even the litle dudes were being good sports. Good thing too because while driving along, minding our own business…we discovered…

a good old fashioned country fair! WoooHoooo!