When I was a kid, we sometimes went to Parker’s to eat pancakes. It’s actually called “Parker’s Maple Barn,” but I remember hearing it being called Parker’s Pancake House. That may just be my awesome mom mixing up her words, but it’s what it will forever be ingrained in my brain as. It’s a place I associate with Fall, and New England, and family and friends. And just good times in general.

What I remember most is not the pancakes (I don’t really like pancakes all that much) but seeing the maple syrup come out of the trees. It was magical.

Though, in all fairness, I also remember that their blueberry pancakes were the first pancakes I ever declared to be “actually ok.” So I guess that counts for something. Actually they were good.

We met up with our special friends Janine and Denise and we ate pancakes. Like old times.

First, a photo of what Darek did that morning:

And here’s Parker’s in the lovely morning light:

Martha and Denise awaiting the arrival of breakfast:

Even the lights are on board with the breakfast motif:

Some plastic leaves attached to the window, in case the real ones aren’t enough for you:

My apple cinnamon pancakes, accompanied by some breakfast potatoes:

Darek’s a lumberjack and he’s ok:

Special friends:


A rare photo of us:

A little more natural:

Leaves and stuff:

Dam lighthouse down the road:

Darek fights the lighthouse:


Stick around for more from the New Hampshire Day of Leafy Goodness.

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