Originally, the plan was to meet with K’s brother’s family and head out for an adventure on the Dunajec River this afternoon after a morning hike around the Three Crowns Mountains. But in fairly typical Podhale fashion, the weather turned suddenly overcast, threatening rain. We decided it wasn’t worth it: what’s the point of hiking up a mountain if you can’t see any views? And we always have tomorrow.

So since we were all up (meaning, the adults and the Boy) early, we went ahead and had an early breakfast. And as we had nothing else to do in the morning, I went out for a walk in the hilly fields just west of the village.

I saw a gentleman sweeping hay from the floor of his barn with an old-fashioned twig broom. I thought to ask him if he would mind me taking a picture of him, but I didn’t. Why? I really don’t know. What’s the worst that could have happened? He would have laughed, said “No,” and I would have gone on about my walk. Instead, I am writing about it hours later with just a little regret. Next time.

After lunch, the plan was to head to Wypasiona Dolina for a little line-park action, but just as the weather put a quick end to our river plans, the rain put an unforeseen end to our afternoon adventures: though the park is only a few kilometers from Jablonka, and though it didn’t rain all day today, it poured there apparently, and the owner, seeing that all the wood was wet and thus slippery, sent all the workers home.

Instead, we went to the outdoor museum that we almost always seem to visit while here. It seems to grow each time we go.

On the way back to Babcia’s to pick her up for church, we stopped at a new place that had — strangely enough for a small village — a small bowling alley. It was not quite a normal bowling alley: the pins were suspended by strings and seemed to be lighter plastic. The Boy managed to win the first game but didn’t do so well with the second game.

After bowling, we rushed to pick up Babcia to head to church so that we can have tomorrow completely free. Afterward, we dropped by the cemetery to tidy up around Dziadek’s grave and pay our respects. As always happens at the cemetery, we met an old friend of Babcia’s, a former teacher of K’s.

And finally, back home, Babcia began teaching the Boy how to make a fire for hot water — a basic skill in old-school rural Poland