i don’t think it’s just our used-to-city-smells noses talking. even my mum said it was bad, and she built and lived in a house in the countryside, so believe me when i say it truly is horrendous. hasn’t stopped us from coming back yet though. i blame that apple cider of theirs. if it wasn’t as unbelievably good as it is, i’d be a bit more on the fence about skipping this particular (pungent) autumnal tradition. but it is that unbelievably good, and it won’t ever not be, so i’m afraid we’re stuck with the inevitable nose-burning sensation that is life on a farm.
liam felt a bit braver this time around, and gave the tricycles a shot. i pet a goat, and then another one, and then another one. we walked through dead, crunchy grass. we walked through rows and rows of plump, pretty pumpkins. met a butterfly. took turns holding said butterfly for nigh on twenty minutes. skipped rocks at the pond. watched the orange, yellow, and red leaves flutter down from up above and spin and sway in the wild, whipping wind. raced down the dirt-covered slides. sat in a oversized tire swing. walked on balance beams. stood amongst the corn stalks. had an impromptu iphone family photo shoot. had snacks in a tent. jumped on the big orange pillow. considered picking out a pumpkin to bring home. left empty handed, but full hearted.
too sappy? my theory is it’s the utter sweetness of the apple cider. it’s infectious. i can’t be held responsible for the words it makes me want to write, or the emotions it makes me have to feel. the sap just won’t stop coming as soon as the cold air sets in, and the changed leaves begin to fall, and everything on the horizon is apple cider and maple syrup and powdered sugar.
little joys 