This is my very round about way of getting to the visit my husband Jim and I took this weekend to The Canterbury Shaker Village.
Tucked into a quiet corner of New Hampshire (only an hour from my house, as it turns out), is the kind of rolling farmland that makes my inner photographer say ah! Even in cloudy weather, it's a beautiful ride up a curvy road that leads to a long stone fence and old buildings clustered together as a reminder of another time.
There are, everywhere on this property, the remnants of who lived here five or six generations back. You can nearly see the farmer standing behind his plow horses, nearly smell the apple pie baking in the ancient kitchen.
Add to this a somewhat peculiar sect of Christianity, a communal people who wanted to live in simple way that honored their God in everything they did, who vowed to remain celibate (in some cases dissolving their marriages to join), and you have what is commonly known in writer's circles as a plot bunny. Well, not a plot bunny, exactly, but I can feel in my writer's bones that there's a story in there somewhere.