Living on the outskirts of Boston, you do not want to go out on St Patrick’s Day, unless you vomit copious amounts of green beer after being beaten up by a bunch of townies who claim to have Irish ancestry.
It was a beautiful day last Saturday. Warm enough to venture out in just a dress (although today is back to scarf weather – welcome to New England), and a fair few people were out and about. Even the storefronts in downtown Salem got in on the fun by hauling out anything green they had in stock and pushing it altogether.
And of course there were some people dressed up:
And then, even more adorable (although he refused to sit still) – PUPPY!
Even that was just too much for me. So I went home, where I thought I would be free from all things green. When I passed by my neighbour’s hallway, I knew I was wrong:
So I ended up just having a relaxing St. Paddy’s Day in Salem. A marathon of Black Books, some soda bread, some Irish tea and a lovely stout.
And my dragon.