Rosendale Rocks (literally!)

I don't think I've written about my love for pickles. If there's any food I am thankful for, it is most certainly pickles. Eat them whole, cut them up, place them in sandwiches, eat them as snacks.... Half sours, bread and butter, kosher dills are among my favorites.  My love for them has grown over the years. I didn't love them any more or less when I was pregnant.  We almost always have a jar of them in our refrigerator. During the summer, when the vegetable garden is brimming with cucumbers, I make bread and butter pickles from a recipe I found one year in Cooking Light magazine. They are delicious and last about two weeks. 

So it is with great joy that I get to go to the pickle festival. This year, however, it was huge. It seemed like thousands of people were there. The tents were packed and we moved at a crawl. By the time we reached the actual pickle tent Cole had had enough. He began to cry, so I placed him back to facing me and he fell asleep in about five minutes. 

Aside from his little (and understandable) meltdown it was nice to see lots of familiar faces and catch up with people we hadn't seen in a while. This is what I like about living in a small town. Having grown up in a city filled with anonymous faces, I realize just how important community is.  In a small town like ours, you are never just an anonymous face. And what is great about Rosendale is that there is about one festival a month (all different themes) where you have the chance to catch up with people. Granted, we don't go to every festival, but it's nice to know that we can and will see people we know if we do go.

As promised: Pics from the festival.

Mommy and Cole in his new pumpkin hat (courtesy of Grandma Carolyn)

Outside the Rosendale Community Center

Inside the Pickle Fest tent with a sleeping Cole