An Autumnal Tradition

Thanksgiving is my favourite weekend of the year and a pilgrimage to the Balls Falls conservation area is a must.  Every year I have to take a photo of this wreath on the door of the historic church.  And eat fresh apple fritters cooked in boiling cauldrons of oil by local teens.  The overbearing presence and ridiculous nature of health and safety gone mad hasn't yet reached this neck of the woods.

Patience is required to get a shot without streams of visitors parading through your photo.  You wouldn't know it but people were being shuttled in from the parking area in a nearby field by the busload.  The combined aromas of roasting nuts, woodsmoke and popcorn was absolutely divine.  I munched on a freshly roasted yam with a small ladle of melted butter drizzled on top while my husband waited in line for his fresh-cut fries and hotdog smothered in onions to be ready.  Just in case you think me a tad righteous in my healthy eating way, I whipped out my plastic fork and dug into R's steaming entree the minute mine was finished.  You know you would too!

The grist mill has been undergoing some renovations but looks as cosy as ever nestled beside the stream.

The birds of prey from the Mountsberg Raptor Centre always look unimpressed with all of the attention.  One charming mother could be heard telling her little horror-stricken daughter that this Bald Eagle eats guinea pigs.  This fellow most likely would but there was something a tad eerie about the delight Mum took in saying so.  Makes me wonder what a bedtime story at the poor little mite's house is like?

Umm...this is a rather large thingamuhjig.  It looks like some sort of early tractor...all I know is that lots of elderly gentlemen really liked looking at it.  Next to it was our favourite group of steam engine enthusiasts with their machines puffing and sputtering away and last but not least another 'must see for some silly reason' item.  The spitting cat and his tub of bubbles!  Disregard the poor thing's neighbour.

                       
Another marker has come and gone from our yearly calendar.  A cup of hot apple cider for the road and we were on our way home.  Happy Thanksgiving!