On Tuesday the fifth day of our trip to the Waterville Valley in the White Mountains Presidential Range of New Hampshire, we continued to enjoy mid-October weather that was surprisingly benign, allowing us to enjoy our various trips into State and federally-administered parks. Because of the situation in the United States with government shutting down all its services as the Democrats and Republicans had a hissy fit of almost unprecedented proportions, leaving the nation in a state of perturbing dysfunction, the forestry office that we would visit on such occasions for a permit to park environments was closed and we had to make do without one.

We woke again to a heavily overcast day, though I had been up through the night of a restless sleep, a pattern that I hoped would not continue forever in our stay there. At one juncture I drew the bedroom window curtain aside to look up at a dark, dark sky. Close above dangled large scintillating stars. When I heard my husband wake some time later and make his way to the bathroom, I suggested on his way back to bed that he too look out the window and share with me the wonder of a truly dark sky, one unblemished by the light pollution city dwellers like ourselves are accustomed to.

Reminding us of different types of conditions in wilderness areas we'd experienced over our adventuring years, sleeping in a tent on the side of a mountain, camping beside a lake in a great forested preserve, where we'd had the pleasure of seeing the sky without human interference, a huge treat we enjoyed together years ago.

We returned after breakfast for a hike at Smarts Brook trail, this time the landscape ours alone since the day before traffic was heavy with people returning to Boston and other cities from their brief holiday sojourn in the White Mountains over the Columbus Day long week-end. We dawdled to our hearts' content, taking photographs, talking nostalgically between us of the many years we had been returning to this wonderful natural landscape.

And then we set off for a long drive to the southern part of the State, past Concord, then Manchester and finally arriving at the small town of Milford to once again visit the Antique Co-op market that we had been delighted to discover on our June trip. It is a place to ogle period furniture, bronzes, paintings, porcelains, clocks and everything in between. The quality of the objects is marvellous, their condition pristine and the prices are in the affordable range for people who are comfortably well off.

Within the upper story there is a gallery full of maritime paintings that are exquisitely beautiful. The paintings range from the 18th Century on to the 20th Century in their execution.  Seascapes and landscapes of masterful artistry in original frames, all in superb condition. And most, sadly, beyond our pocketbook, but wonderful to look at. Many of the artists' names were familiar to my husband who felt it a privilege to be able to see them close up, not just in books and art magazines.