Anne and I attended the annual Dedication Day ceremony this morning at Soldiers’s National Cemetery.  It was a beautiful clear and frosty morning and, because this year November 19 falls on a Saturday, there were no seats.  Still, it was wonderful. 

The program is straight forward.  After the presentation of colors, the national anthem, a welcome, introductions, and invocation, the keynote speaker is introduced.  This year it was an actor, Stephen Lang, whose remarks focused on what those who died there have given us. 

Anne and I are home and happy.  We are to be on South Mountain mostly until January when we will travel to Florida.  We expected December to be hectic with both visitors here and travel for the holidays.  November was supposed to be quiet for chores and catch up. 

Anne didn’t enjoy it one bit.  I helped, but she did the research and chatted with the salesmen.  It has been a three month process, but today she finished contracting for health insurance under Medicare. 

I provide this report because I know many of you are also approaching the magic age of 65 and will have to endure the ordeal of signing up for Medicare.  Good luck.

Good News.  Electricity has returned to our home on South Mountain. 

Bad News.  Telephone and Internet Service have left. 

I write from the library after spending weekend with Mom and Dad Strehl in York.  We made a quiet celebration of my Dad's 91st birthday.  Nobody else could come because of nearly a foot of snow in these parts on Saturday.

We arrived on Thursday afternoon, setting up camp in Rexford - thanks Norb and Susan, and began finding and greeting members of the Woods clan starting with James who arrived to mow when we were unpacking.  The weather is now great and gave us a wonderful drive out of the White Mountains, down along the Connecticut River, across southern Vermont, and finally over the Hudson River and into the Schenectady area.

The campground is dark and quiet this Monday evening.  We are exhausted but warm and happy after our last day of exploring Mt. Desert Island and Acadia National Park.  Our northern expedition is drawing to a close, but we will make a two-night stop at Twin Mountain in the New Hampshire White Mountains region and then stay for the weekend at Schenectady before returning to our home and winterizing our motorhome, “Harley,” for the season. 

Today we left the famous Bay of Fundy with its large tides to arrive here near the southernmost point of this province of Canada.  We were last camped near the south end of the Digby Spit, a rocky spine of Basalt that extends southwest from the town of Digby parallel to the main body of Nova Scotia and separated from it by the narrow St. Mary’s Bay. The Whale Cove Campground is situate on the ridge above a break in the rocky shoreline that is Whale Cove. 

Beautiful afternoon in the Scotia Pines Campground.  Anne and I walked over smooth limestone, the beds vertical, at the point of land north of Halifax Harbor this morning watching flocks of migrating sandpipers.  We picked up my sister, Laurie, at the airport at lunch time and brought her home here.  The hurricane is passing by to the east and is providing a stiff breeze, lots of clouds, and very clear air.  We're glad its going because Anne and I are planning to boat with a group into the North Atlantic in search of seabirds tomorrow.  We hope to see Atlantic Puffi

Our motorhome is parked this afternoon at Shady Lane.  Anne, Mary Helen and Mom Woods are out shopping.  Dad is relaxing inside on this rainy day.  Mark Davidson and Frank and Tim left for home with the masses yesterday.  At least here the weather for the weekend was marvelous. 

I am driving at 55 mph and a police car is passing me.  The speed limit is posted at 30 mph, but I am much more worried about horrendous potholes than the cruiser.  We dash out from the Clinton Hill neighborhood of Brooklyn, Elley’s home in the Big Apple, on I-278, the Brooklyn-Queens (or Q-E) Expressway toward the Verazanno Narrows Bridge and the relative suburbia of Staten Island on our way home to PA.  This atherosclerotic vessel is pumping us forward with traffic, taking us from full stops to full acceleration.  I, a provincial, attempt to keep a couple of car