{"id":332,"date":"2016-05-19T10:50:00","date_gmt":"2016-05-19T10:50:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2016\/05\/19\/a-day-out-old-sturbridge-village\/"},"modified":"2020-10-28T02:58:07","modified_gmt":"2020-10-28T02:58:07","slug":"a-day-out-old-sturbridge-village","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/2016\/05\/19\/a-day-out-old-sturbridge-village\/","title":{"rendered":"A Day Out–Old Sturbridge Village"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

Childhood memories are a form of time travel. \u00a0They can take you back to the time and place and person you once were. \u00a0I grew up going to Old Sturbridge Village, a living history museum in Massachusetts. \u00a0I have such happy memories of my visits there as a child. Of the sun beating down on us as we walked the dirt roads, scuffing our feet and watching the dust swirl around our toes. \u00a0Of hanging over the split rail fences watching the lambs mill around their mothers. \u00a0Of standing in the kitchens listening to my mom discuss cooking techniques with the costumed interpreters. \u00a0Of eating fat ginger cookies from the bake house. \u00a0Of lying flat on the little bridge across the stream looking for minnows. \u00a0Of watching as the blacksmith pumped the bellows and listening to the ring of his hammer and then the hiss of the steam as he plunged metal into water to cool it. When I walk through the doors of Sturbridge Village I become that little girl again.<\/p>\n

I promised my daughter that if she didn’t miss much school this year I would let her take a day off and we would do something fun. \u00a0She picked Sturbridge Village. \u00a0My children have the same happy memories associated with it that I have. \u00a0My son has missed too much school to take a day off and my husband couldn’t take a day either so it was just my daughter and me. \u00a0I don’t know which of us was more excited about the day.<\/p>\n

\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

Our first stop was the lambs. \u00a0My daughter loves animals and this is what she was most excited about. \u00a0We timed our visit just right. There were a lot of lambs scattered all around the village and they were absolutely adorable. \u00a0I think my daughter could have stood there all day watching them. \u00a0I finally dragged her away to visit a few of the houses.<\/p>\n

\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

The interpreters are always happy to answer questions and just make the visit interesting. \u00a0One thing I appreciate about OSV is that the experience stays the same. \u00a0Exhibits may change slightly but the village I take my children to visit is the same as the one I visited myself. \u00a0I am always afraid that somehow, in their bid to keep up with society and in order to attract more visitors, they will do horrible things like put interactive screens in the houses. \u00a0The appeal of museums like this is that they put you in the picture. \u00a0When you walk through them it is possible to feel like you live in the village, that you too will be working in the garden or plowing the field or milking the cow. \u00a0I am glad they don’t do anything to take away from that feeling of immediacy.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

The little red farmhouse pictured at the top of this post was always my favorite place in the village. \u00a0I used to imagine living in it with the fields all around me and the stream down the hill. \u00a0The kitchen is always in use and I love seeing the food they make and the recipe books they use to do so. \u00a0The interpreters are very knowledgeable and always happy to talk.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\"Lilac\"<\/a><\/div>\n

We also had to make a stop at the blacksmith’s shop. \u00a0This was always my son’s favorite. He would sit and watch the blacksmith at work and chat to him for as long as we would let him. \u00a0When he found out we were going to OSV he made me promise we would all go back over the summer so he could visit the blacksmith. \u00a0My son is at a technical high school and is taking machine shop. \u00a0I wonder if his fascination with working with metal started when he was little and had to be dragged out of the blacksmith’s shop.<\/p>\n

\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

Sturbridge Village is quintessential old New England. \u00a0The buildings are original and have been moved on location and restored to their former condition. \u00a0The scenery is picture-perfect. \u00a0There are a lot of paths and trails you can walk.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

It is not just the childhood memories that are a form of time travel, Old Sturbridge Village is as well. \u00a0It takes you back to a slower, quieter time. \u00a0A time with its own problems and its own struggles but also its own joy and its own beauty.<\/p>\n

\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n

One important part of any visit to OSV is a walk down the hill to the stream. \u00a0It is vital that you sit on the little bridge, listen to the blackbirds and swifts in the meadow, and then play a few games of Pooh sticks.<\/p>\n

\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\"Old<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

My childhood and my children’s become merged at Sturbridge Village. \u00a0Is is me or my daughter agonizing about which flavor of candy stick to buy? \u00a0Is it me or my son sitting on the fence watching the cattle? \u00a0Sometimes I feel that if I could just turn my head quickly enough I would see her, that little girl I used to be, ponytails flapping as I run, red sneakers covered with dust, headed for the stream or the farm or the covered bridge. \u00a0But now I turn my head and see another little girl, with a braid bouncing on her back and grey converse covered with dust, headed for the stream. \u00a0She grins at me and starts collecting sticks. \u00a0She is determined to win at Pooh sticks. \u00a0I grin back and start collecting them too. \u00a0For a moment, I can almost feel the swish of my ponytails as I turn my head.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Childhood memories are a form of time travel. \u00a0They can take you back to the time and place and person you once were. \u00a0I grew up going to Old Sturbridge Village, a living history museum in Massachusetts. \u00a0I have such happy memories of my visits there as a child. Of the sun beating down on us as we walked the dirt roads, scuffing our feet and watching the dust swirl around our toes. \u00a0Of hanging over the split rail fences watching the lambs mill around their mothers. \u00a0Of standing in the kitchens listening to my mom discuss cooking techniques with the costumed interpreters. \u00a0Of eating fat ginger cookies from the bake house. \u00a0Of lying flat on the little bridge across the stream looking for minnows. \u00a0Of watching as the blacksmith pumped the bellows and listening to the ring of his hammer and then the hiss of the steam as he plunged metal into water to cool it. When I walk through the doors of Sturbridge Village I become that little girl again. I promised my daughter that if she didn’t miss much school this year I would let her take a day off and we would do something fun. \u00a0She picked Sturbridge Village. \u00a0My children have the same happy memories associated with it that I have. \u00a0My son has missed too much school to take a day off and my husband couldn’t take a day either so it was just my daughter and me. \u00a0I don’t know which of us was more excited about the day. Our first stop was the lambs. \u00a0My daughter loves animals and this is what she was most excited about. \u00a0We timed our visit just right. There were a lot of lambs scattered all around the village and they were absolutely adorable. \u00a0I think my daughter could have stood there all day watching them. \u00a0I finally dragged her away to visit a few of the houses. The interpreters are always happy to answer questions and just make the visit interesting. \u00a0One thing I appreciate about OSV is that the experience stays the same. \u00a0Exhibits may change slightly but the village I take my children to visit is the same as the one I visited myself. \u00a0I am always afraid that somehow, in their bid to keep up with society and in order to attract more visitors, they will do horrible things like put interactive screens in the houses. \u00a0The appeal of museums like this is that they put you in the picture. \u00a0When you walk through them it is possible to feel like you live in the village, that you too will be working in the garden or plowing the field or milking the cow. \u00a0I am glad they don’t do anything to take away from that feeling of immediacy. The little red farmhouse pictured at the top of this post was always my favorite place in the village. \u00a0I used to imagine living in it with the fields all around me and the stream down the hill. \u00a0The kitchen is always in use and I love seeing the food they make and the recipe books they use to do so. \u00a0The interpreters are very knowledgeable and always happy to talk. We also had to make a stop at the blacksmith’s shop. \u00a0This was always my son’s favorite. He would sit and watch the blacksmith at work and chat to him for as long as we would let him. \u00a0When he found out we were going to OSV he made me promise we would all go back over the summer so he could visit the blacksmith. \u00a0My son is at a technical high school and is taking machine shop. \u00a0I wonder if his fascination with working with metal started when he was little and had to be dragged out of the blacksmith’s shop. Sturbridge Village is quintessential old New England. \u00a0The buildings are original and have been moved on location and restored to their former condition. \u00a0The scenery is picture-perfect. \u00a0There are a lot of paths and trails you can walk. It is not just the childhood memories that are a form of time travel, Old Sturbridge Village is as well. \u00a0It takes you back to a slower, quieter time. \u00a0A time with its own problems and its own struggles but also its own joy and its own beauty. One important part of any visit to OSV is a walk down the hill to the stream. \u00a0It is vital that you sit on the little bridge, listen to the blackbirds and swifts in the meadow, and then play a few games of Pooh sticks. My childhood and my children’s become merged at Sturbridge Village. \u00a0Is is me or my daughter agonizing about which flavor of candy stick to buy? \u00a0Is it me or my son sitting on the fence watching the cattle? \u00a0Sometimes I feel that if I could just turn my head quickly enough I would see her, that little girl I used to be, ponytails flapping as I run, red sneakers covered with dust, headed for the stream or the farm or the covered bridge. \u00a0But now I turn my head and see another little girl, with a braid bouncing on her back and grey converse covered with dust, headed for the stream. \u00a0She grins at me and starts collecting sticks. \u00a0She is determined to win at Pooh sticks. \u00a0I grin back and start collecting them too. \u00a0For a moment, I can almost feel the swish of my ponytails as I turn my head.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":785,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-332","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-a-day-out"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=332"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2833,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332\/revisions\/2833"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/785"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=332"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=332"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.holdsuponhappiness.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=332"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}