For several days the campground has hosted a few of the members of an antique automobile club. As might be expected of folks with extra discretionary income, they were driving some big rigs. Those rigs, when combined with the 25-30 foot trailers necessary to haul the cars, made for some exciting, spectator drawing, maneuvering as they made their way into and out of this relatively quaint Maine campground.
Note the three pedals on the old Ford.
Friday offers a farmers' market.
I restrained myself: a loaf of whole grain (local grain) sourdough bread, chevre and some cukes. Lunch was cucumber sandwiches with fresh baked sourdough.
Later, as Durelle was dog walking and visiting the Kenneways, Mocha decided to swipe not one, but two of another dog's bones.
Durelle, the spoilsport, made her take them back.