Saturday, November 25, 2006

A Late Afternoon's Walk

Another day of warm weather finally drove us out of the house. The fear and trepidation we'd felt as a result of being bombarded by news of the Black Friday hordes had us taking to the mattresses. Barricades had been concocted from turket bone remnants and the bags and bags of trash that had resulted from the big day. We even had cases of empty bottles from various nations just as backup if we were attacked. We could always refer to Saddam's tape for further instructions as to the bottles' use.
But after much of the peeking out between the blinds, we felt safe to take to the roads for a walk about the place.
Delaware has some great parks and places to perambulate. One place we like to go is Winterthur. It combines a nice hilly terrain with a touch of trespassing. The estate, open to the public nowadays was just another estate of the many in Northern Delaware previously owned by the Family DuPont. Winterthur was such a large estate that it had its own postal code and its own baseball team. With a season pass, you can saunter around the grounds all year, with the exception of Christmas Day and Thanksgiving Day. During the summer you'll see many bridal parties traipsing about for photo ops. The gardens are justifiably world reknown and the museums on the ground are unique in their displays. During Kennedy's short term in office, the Winterthur museums were cleaned out of furniture as practically all of it was borrowed for use in the White House. It's quite quiet here and a fine opportunity to hold one's hands behind our respective backs and stroll around, thinking deep thoughts. A weel-packed pipe would not have been out of place at all.
I can't recall how many times I've been here, not that it really matters. Each time I always get a sly grin at some point, thinking this will be the time we'll be rounded up by the Winterthur constables (don't even know if they actually exist) because we're walking the mighty DuPont grounds. In jeans and running shoes, to boot. Must be the remnants of some Croatian serf's blood still thinking the lord's going to be coming back soon and then we'll all be in for it.

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