This past Saturday, my daughters and I hit the road and headed for the hills that straddle the border between PA and West Virginia. My dad was carving at the Mason Dixon Ramp Fest. Yes. Ramp Fest. As in an entire weekend designed to celebrate the super-smelly onion/garlic that tastes delicious but makes you a walking bundle of noxiousness for about a day after eating. Dad has taken up the art of chainsaw carving over the last two years, and he's good. We love to go and watch him work his magic with both the crowd and the giant pine blocks he turns into animals. This weekend was no different.
|Pops in action on the beginnings of a rabbit. He says that the animals are "sleeping in the logs."|
|Just a sampling of some of his critters/creations. You know I brought a set of the candle holders home, which would sell at Anthropologie for $100 smackers.|
|We sampled the rampy goodness: ramp burgers, ramp taters, ramp hotdogs, ramp butter, ramp WINE (I feel like Bubba Gump). Needless to say, my husband told me I had to sit in a different room when I came home later that evening.|
|We listened to some great bluegrass and soul music. Soph entertained the crowds with her hippie dancing.|
|We came home with lots of goodies, my favorite being this hand-woven rug made by the ladies group from one of the local churches out of old t-shirts. $18 = a steal.|
|Of course, I also like these little guys.|