October I had found a perfect place to eat my picnic lunch: on an elevated stone terrace overlooking a pair of woodland pools and a gnarled and noisy waterfall traveling to the shade garden below. The woman welcoming me to the Winterthur Museum, Garden and Library in Delaware had assured me that I had many picnic choices.
She was right; I had passed any number of benches and corner-tucked tables, and nothing surpassed where I lingered now. Eventually I moved on. Within a few steps I stood behind the room house, which is the fourth largest in the United States.
This also would have been a perfect place for lunch. I decided to sit at the glass-topped table anyway. I admired the built-in backgammon board and the antique call button on a pillar. As I write this, the museum โ brimming with early American decorative arts โ calls me. But, oh, this is too delightful to leave. Dessert, anyone? Bonus: I eventually pulled myself away and entered the museum. In the s, the wallpaper had been found, unmounted, in France.
October After exploring Winterthur yesterday, I arrived at the home of my dear friend Joan and her husband Don. On a glorious October morning, Joan and I headed to nearby Philadelphia.
Back in the sunshine, we walked and walked, and talked and talked. Our destination: an early 20 th century former vocational school whose rooftop had been converted into a terrace bar. After an hour walking through countless Philadelphia neighborhoods and riding up a freight elevator to the 8 th floor, we stepped out into a magical world: the entire city of Philadelphia was spread before us. As we sipped our beers, we saluted our epic day. As we collapsed into the car later that night, we saluted our feet for walking 9.
