A Quick Trip To Boston

Long story, short: Bob had JetBlue flight miles that needed flown, my cousin, Frank, had repeatedly invited us to Vermont, Bob saw that JetBlue flew to Boston, which isn’t far from Jim and Kathryn, so we hatched a plan to visit both families.

After landing, Bob picked up the rental car we would use to drive to Vermont, and we spent a couple of nights with Jim and Kathryn. We had planned a pizza picnic with Kathryn’s daughter and her family, but that fell through when her husband came down with a killer sore throat.

Here’s a photo of the previous pizza party celebrating Jim’s birthday in July 2024.

The weather was spectacular, perfect for rambling chats in Jim and Kathryn’s expansive yard.

I joined Kathryn in the kitchen to bake three “AB Cakes” from her Nan’s recipe book: one for the house, one for Kathryn to take to her friend with whom she would be making bread and butter pickles, and one to take to Vermont. It was a delicious, yet simple cake, involving only sugar, butter, eggs, milk, and flour.

Jim picked out a wonderful hike to Peppercorn Hill for just the two of us. It was supposedly one mile, but felt a whole lot longer due to the elevation gain.

We started inland with a view of Lake Maspenock before heading uphill to our destination.

Here’s Jim with one of many rounded boulders along the trail. Someone a long time ago might have thought, Hey, these boulders look like giant peppercorns, and that’s where we assume Peppercorn Hill got its name. No one actually knows.

“Funny story,” Jim said, “My last time here was with Joe, and we got lost. We took a wrong turn on the way down and ended up on a different ridge. Kathryn had to drive over and pick us up.” I wasn’t surprised. “For Joe, it’s not a real hike unless he gets lost,” I said, chuckling, but I spent the rest of the hike looking over my shoulder at every trail split, trying to memorize the way back to Jim’s car.

We eventually made it to Peppercorn Hill, one of the highest points in Hopkinton, to admire the spectacular view. I found it comforting to see tree cover all the way to the horizon in a world often scarred by construction.

I might mention that Jim is eleven years younger than I am. I, the oldest, and he, the youngest of six. Can you believe my mother had six kids in the span of eleven years? Holy moley.

Anyhow, I think I did a good job keeping up with that youngster. Jim went down in front of me, gallantly offering to carry my camera so I had both hands free to grab at small shrubs and prevent a plummet.

We swung by the grocery store on the way home, and Jim threw together chili and a salad in record time. We ate, talked about everything and nothing, and went to bed early.