Baseball Hall of Fame.
Cooperstown, NY.
A mandatory stop, during our camping trip, for our particular clan of the Weston tribe.
Mandatory, considering we were all so close we could smell the leather of the baseball gloves.
Mandatory, considering the men of our clan are die-hards for the all-American game of baseball.
We just had to.
Of course the kettle corn and the field of sunflowers, that we ladies discovered on the way, weren't so bad either.
And there's so much to tell you about our trip to the land of baseball legends.
But one post could not contain the wealth of statistics flowing through the halls of that place.
Or the immeasurable memorabilia. Including a few World Series Red Sox Champion rings. Wicked awesome!
Let me just leave you with this.
That it was amazing.
You have to make a visit if you ever have the chance.
And I'm not even a die-hard.
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Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer's year - it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. -Unknown