There's something about Seymour. Ever since I went there for this story, I've been meaning to go back. It reminds me of a little mini-Putnam. And I once liked Putnam so much, I moved there.
Seymour is very much about Antiques.
And strange little touches.
There are things in Seymour, like this pedestrian bridge over the railroad tracks from the downtown area to a sort of little parking lot, that I'm sure are very useful, but I can't figure out exactly why.
Overall a casual, old-fashioned, put-all-your-wares-out-on-the-sidewalk feeling prevails.
And there is, apparently, a Pumpkin Festival.
Chairs, the kind that aren't for sale, also get to be out on the sidewalk.
And colors that are a bit more Mississippi than Connecticut come together.
From above it looks like a 1950s postcard (with more contemporary cars.)
And though it feels pleasantly forgotten, it is connected to the wider world, via the Waterbury Branch of the New Haven Line.
The next time you stop by Seymour, or are on your way somewhere on Route 8, make it a requirement to stop at Zois Pizza Palace down the block from the pedestrian bridge. They have my favorite Greek Pizza. I have been going there for all of my 25 years on earth, and will remain a lifelong fan.
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