Growing up, I summered in the land of Anne of Green Gables and Gilbert *heart-a-flutter* Blythe.
As a grown up, I don’t get up there nearly as often as I’d like. For one thing, I now live six hours farther from the island. That’s six hours on top of the TWELVE hour drive from my parents’ house in Massachusetts — where I’m sitting right now typing this post-vacation.
Our last trip was two years ago — and what a difference those years have made:
Beach naps:
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2009 |
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2011 |
Hammock Time
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2009 |
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2011 |
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Beach Walks
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2009 |
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2011 |
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2011 |
Packing:
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Packing the car 2009 |
Actually, I don’t have a picture of the car all packed this year. Probably because I was too busy holding two babies and checking off All The Important Items on our many, many travel lists while St.Matt scrambled around like a packing genius and got All The Important Items to fit.
Just picture mounds of stuff strategically packed. And me sitting in the backseat between two carseats singing songs, waving toys, and being generally entertaining while St.Matt chauffeurs and navigates. For. Twelve. Hours.
Is it next summer yet? I can’t wait to go back…
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