Spending the month of July in Washington, CT in beautiful, bucolic Litchfield County, has become a tradition and there’s nothing I don’t love about it except the mosquitoes, which love me as much as I despise them (and I’ve got the bites to prove it).
California is home now, no question, but there will always be a pull toward the east coast where I was born and raised and still have family and friends. Besides, while others complain about the heat and humidity, they’re just fine with me. I’m always cold in California and in Connecticut I can go sweater-less and enjoy it.
One of the best reasons for coming east is to head over to the Bridgewater Village Market for pie. And I don’t just mean any old pie. I mean pie as in the best crust, the best fruit, the best everything I’ve ever tasted. We had their blueberry pie on July 4th and it was as heavenly as ever. I don’t know how they get it right every single time, but they do.
I’ve already had my share of corn on the cob too, plus swordfish straight from Maine. (The best fish purveyor around these parts is a guy with a fish truck that he parks on Route 7 in New Milford; he drives down from Maine all night so he can sell fresh fish and seafood from the truck – he’s known as “the fish guy.”)
Swimming is another pleasure that’s exclusive to my visit here. I never swim in California. Too cold. But here I plunge right in and it feels great.
The only bad thing about my month here is that it’s just that: a month. Much too short.
