My most favorite part of the Farmer’s Museum was the garden and the animals. Both came toward the end of the village. The herb garden was usually buzzing with bees and fluttering butterflies. A small stone path led through the fragrant plants, and there was something deeply comforting in the beauty and the order found in the layout of that small parcel of land.
On this visit, the gardens had mostly wilted and browned in the frosty nights, but there were a few blooms that remained on the warm-for-October day.
Back when I was kid, it was the animals that most excited me, and I could spend hours just watching them go about their business, chasing the chickens, or waiting for the turkeys to meander my way. I don’t know why they held such a fascination – maybe because I grew up with a single German shepherd, far from any farm, and this was the most exotic thing in the world to me.
Whatever the case, part of that allure still held, and I stood watching the livestock for a few minutes longer than anything else at the museum that day.
After a brief moment of reflection in the church, we got back on the road to Sharon Springs, Lake Otsego on our right. It was almost time for our four-course dinner at the American Hotel…
