Longfellow's Wayside Inn's Cider Festival

Although it was a sweltering 93 degrees, the sweet scent of apples drew over two hundred visitors to Longfellow’s Wayside Inn for their first ever Cider Festival on Friday, Sept. 9. Held across the street in its big red barn and on the surrounding grounds, guests were delighted when they were given handmade blue and grey stoneware mugs decorated with the year 1716 and a rearing horse. Eager cider enthusiasts filled their Westerwald Pottery mugs to the brim as the night unfolded. Steve Pickford, the Innkeeper, and his very attentive staff, ensured the night would be memorable, and took great care with even the smallest of details. Even the rows of little blue horses standing on their hind legs, all faced east, as though they were ready to gallop off their mugs toward Boston.

The barn normally closed to visitors swung its doors wide open, and breathing in new life, was transformed into a lively setting. Orange and yellow mums sat atop bales of hay at the barn's entrances, and a hand painted sign, “Barn Open-- Come In,” beckoned to all who walked by. As a gentle breeze blew, small white lights wrapped around exposed beams, illuminated the stalls below. Old farm tools of yesteryear hanging on the walls gave testament to a bygone era. A replica of David Howe's sign proudly hung above a massive, wooden wagon wheel propped up near bales of hay. The Sandy Ridge Boys, filling the balmy night air with lively music, played bluegrass instruments with vigor. Sounds of bass, fiddle, guitar, mandolin, banjo and dobro wafted through the barn and into the street. Patrons, emboldened by such catchy tunes, line danced together linking arms and spinning each other around while revelers clapped in unison. Cowboy hats pulled down low, hid slow smiles, while boots stomped vitality back into tired floor planks.

Outside, local hard cider artisans, including Angry Orchard, Downeast Cider House, Harpoon Brewery, Lookout Farm, and Stormalong, generously handed out samples of their tried and true varieties. It didn’t take much coaxing though, before their newest flavors such as cinnamon, pear, cranberry, and pumpkin, were each being touted by the crowd as the best. After visiting various tables, and learning about what makes cider so darn refreshing, guests picked their favorites and filled their mugs to overflowing. Icy cold hard ciders of all flavors and hues, quenched the parched and cooled even the hottest of visitors.

Apple aficionados, using a tried-and-true wooden apple press, got in on the action too, by shoving handfuls of Macintosh, Granny Smith, and Gala apples into the press's open mouth and repeatedly cranking its long lever until a cacophony of apples blended together and trickled down the spout. A little muscle and much perseverance, created flowing apple cider for all to taste. Even as the night wore on, apple crates piled high, never ran too low. There were even a few bottles of refreshing apple wine to be sampled.

People gathered for intimate conversations while sitting on makeshift wooden benches propped up by hay bales turned on their sides, or at picnic tables scattered around the property, while others gathered together to laugh and reminisce under the massive white tent.

Those wanting to glimpse the Grist Mill at dusk, and in time to see pink clouds dot the sky, climbed aboard the inn's horse drawn carriage. Molly, the kindly white horse, gently trotted along winding tree lined paths, open fields, and the Martha Mary Chapel before arriving at its destination. The Gristmill's bright red waterwheel and cascading falls were a source of numerous oohs and aahs.

Firefly’s BBQ made finger licking good baby-back ribs and mouthwatering pulled pork with all the trimmings. The pig roast was a real hit, especially the token apple stuck in the pig’s mouth. Diners filled their plates high with grilled chicken, sausage and peppers, potato salad, coleslaw, and sweet corn bread. And then they went back for seconds. For dessert, apple crisp was topped with huge dollops of whipped cream.
After the sun set, a vintage Massey Ferguson tractor, bedecked with American flags and strands of small white lights, rumbled along pulling spectators through grassy fields, while a jovial accordion player’s music drifted into the night. A stop along the way gave riders a chance to swap stories, hear chirping crickets, and gaze up at the stars. Before the tractor made its last leg around the property, everyone aboard proudly sang, “God Bless America.”

All and all, the night was a sweet success. Moments shared among friends, both new and old, still linger and will be cherished for years to come. Longfellow's Wayside Inn, celebrating its 300th birthday this year, has never looked better.