Strawberry Banke Forever

 HI! Today was a banner day, because I had been separated from Lizzie for over two weeks, as she had been on vacation with her husband in Alaska, and today we were reunited, and decided to celebrate this reunion, as well as her birthday, up in New Hampshire!  Our first stop was the Strawberry Banke Museum, which, as the website will tell you, is a 10-acre outdoor history museum with tons of gorgeous gardens and "role players" to talk to and bug with your annoying questions.  This here is the Gibson mansion, and that dear lady below is Mrs. Gibson.  I asked her about her gardens to be polite, and because I love gardens, and I remarked upon the GIANT SWARM OF BEES that her flowers attracted.  She told me that she petted the bees O_o and that they were fuzzy.  She said if you pet them in the direction of their wings, that they don't mind it.

Wut?

Okay, probably people who haven't been stung a kajillion times by all varieties of bees/wasps might not have found this to be(e), as the kids say, whack, but once you've been stung six times on the knee because a hornet decided the best possible place it could chill in all the world was in the leg of the ugliest pair of green sweat pants that you own and dried on the line outside because running a dryer is expensive and you are a poor 12-year old, you start to find the little bastards suspicious.  I was stung by so many honey bees when I was over Lizzie's house the first year we met (kindergarten) that her mother thought there was something wrong with me.  I mean, there is, but I don't know what it has to do with bees.  Any how, even though I thought that anyone who petted bees was a weirdo, I remarked upon how she must have a lot of honey, and she gave me such a side eye and said "Oh No, I do not KEEP bees."  MY BAD, BEE WHISPERER.  

Anyway, the house was gorgeous, and they let you touch stuff (see Lizzie iron!) which made me super happy.  They also pretty much left you alone to explore on your own, which also made me happy.  They gave you a little spiel at the beginning of whatever house you entered, and then were like "go to it."  Many of the houses (which smelled of emphysema) held displays on carpentry, and in one, we climbed into the attic to see how the joists et al went together, and I thought we were going to drop through the ceiling.  That's not great for one's self-esteem. We also toured a little herb garden, and I pointed out all the stuff that could kill you or make you go crazy (Foxglove, Tansy, Castor Beans).  Then I got invited to join the northeast herb society (probably because of my knowledge of deadly herbs) but I live in an attic (with a pretty solid floor and awesome joists) so unfortunately that is a dream which will have to wait...