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nuw mean wtit piepaieu in huge stone ovens and over open fires minus controls to lower or raise the flame.
Our last stop was the palace itself—a grand, imposing building equally as fit for a prince as for the
vernor of an uncivilized, new world colony.
But as impressive as the palace was, it didn’t stand a chance against the governor's formal gardens as far as the kids were concerned. For months, they’d been hearing stories about the boxwood maze and all day, instructions on how to navigate that maze were passed back and forth.
"Take a left and then all rights or is it a right and then all lefts?” It didn’t matter—they all found the center. Like a horde of penny conscious shoppers ad a Gimbel’s or Macy’s sale, the kids raced. Around corners, down to dead ends and back around again, they ran full speed ahead till they all poured into the center square—much to the distress of the sweethearts who had been murmuring endearments to each other on a stone bench before the Rappahannock horde hit the scene.
As frantic as it might have been, the race around the maze was nothing compared to our reenactment of the battle of Yorktown. After being quiet and well behaved during the Williamsburg walking tourr—at least most of the time—after a subdued shopping expedition in Regency Square where they were warned that they’d have to buy anything they broke, after the 45-minute bus ride to Yorktown, the kids were a powder keg. They exploded all over the hills and open fields of the battleground. Luckily, we suffered ho casualties.
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