Weeks 1-2

Last year’s visit to Rett’s Dad’s house was in the fall, so it was nice to switch it back to a summertime visit, and be able to partake in some of the classic bounty of the garden, including broccoli, potatoes, and new this year: blueberries! Unfortunately an asshole raccoon began raiding the corn crop and prevented us from enjoying any of that late-summer classic.

The first week was pretty hot in the one-window-A/C-unit house, but we made do with fans, and once again our upstairs bedroom suite stayed more-comfortable than you would expect for an attic space with two huge south-facing skylights. Ken and I installed a screen door on the balcony entrance to help with the airflow.

Rett’s sister Sophie followed us out from Chicago a few days later, so that they could share time together with their Dad. One big benefit for Rett was that Sophie brought a load of clothes and fashion accessories for Rett to borrow since she’s normally forced to put hard limits on that once-huge part of her life these days.

The most important use for those clothes and accessories was for our visit to the Sterling Renaissance Festival! It’s my third time going with Rett, and our first since…2022? Huh? If we went just two years ago, that means it was already within our nomadacy. As homeless people traveling the world, it seems almost wrong that we’ve managed to end up in Sterling, New York for two of the last three July-August periods in which the festival is held. While our lengthy breaks and visits with family are critical to keeping our long-term “bike touring” enjoyable, sometimes I feel like we aren’t seeing enough of the world, especially if we’re going to places we’ve already experienced. But such is the magic of Sterling (er, “Warwick”) that going every year for the next 20 would not make me feel that way. Perhaps because we do go through a portal that takes us to a place and time with little relation to the USA in 2024.

The closing (and inaccurately-named) “pub sing” remains one of the most spiritually-transporting interactions I’ve ever experienced. It’s clear that the actors and musicians would be making this music and laughter together with each other even if there was no audience to witness it (the fraction of the day’s attendance that remains for it is likely outnumbered by actors/workers, which makes it even more special for those of us who know about the “secret”).

In many other places, following that sublime ending with a crash back into reality would be brutal, but here in Upstate New York it comes very gently. An hourlong drive on empty roads through sunset-glowing field-and-forest, transitions to a burger-and-ice-cream stand from days-gone-by (Skanellus, a country place where you can just run into people you know, say, Rett and Sophie’s stepsister), and then ends at Ken’s warm-and-welcoming fairytale cottage in the picture-postcard village of Skaneateles.