Winter coats were pulled out and dusted off yesterday as the clouds hung low and temperatures dipped lower. It was Fall Festival weekend at our local orchard, and they lost 95% of their apple crop this year due to weird spring weather, so we were determined to support them with our annual pumpkin picking.
I remember one year it was nearly 100 degrees on this first weekend in October. Maya was two, she wore a tank top, and we sweated our way through the pumpkin fields.
This year, we wore mittens. Indiana, you are bizarre.
Noah demonstrated his inability to look at the camera while holding his chosen gourd ...
... and again while posing with his pumpkin.
Maya's pumpkin-choosing technique was much like her DVD-picking habits at the library: wander through the entire area several times, carefully taking in allllllllllllllllll the possibilities, then pick one. Oh no, wait! Not that one. Well, maybe that one. Or maybe this other one. Let's check all of them again.
Have I mentioned it was cold?
But we finally made it back onto the hayride, curly-topped gourds in hand.
And managed not to freeze on the bumpy trip back to the store.
We swallowed back the travesty of this year's apple cider prices and bought a gallon. The grocery store stuff can't even sort of compare, but I do feel like I should be rationing this jug by the tablespoon.
Pumpkins on our front stoop, the good cider in our fridge, and another year's memories made. Fall is officially here.
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I'm blogging every day this month with all of these brilliant people. It's my ...