maple syrup fest

I plan to make the maple syrup fest at Blandford an annual tradition. Here's the fun from this year!

Learning about animal tracks

Checking if the sap is running

Boiling it down the way they used to

The last step in the process

Fuel for making the syrup

orchards and stuff

Every fall we make a trek out to at least two orchards, usually with extended family. Our first stop this year was Robinette's, right outside our city. This is the place we choose to go with just us - it's close and not too elaborate.

We ate pumpkin-spice doughnuts, gawked at the giant apple and went down the wagon slide a few times, like we always do. Although all of this was a first time for Theo!

Normally we'd also squeeze in a hike on the nearby trails, but it was getting late and our boys were wheezy. (The onset of respiratory problems in my children is the only part of fall that I hate.)

We were planning to purchase some cider at Robinette's for a few toasty warm drinks (rum n' cider, anyone?) later on, but with the drought and all the price of cider was ridiculous. Sad. And not just because I won't be drinking rum and cider... more importantly I feel bad for the farmers.

Second stop this year was Fruit Ridge Farms with my side of the family, which we'd done one other time with them. At this one we went the whole nine yards: doughnuts, cider and a hay ride, the duration of which Brett pontificated about his love for the outdoors and the soul-healing, peaceful activities that are often set there. (He whined the whole time.)

We were a little stressed at the beginning of the hayride because Theo seemed fussy, but as long as my dad was letting him jump up and down in his lap, and no one tried to shush him when he yelled for extended periods at the top of his lungs, he was fine. Not sure we can say the same of our fellow riders, but oh well.

You may notice the reappearance of the mini baby scarf, which Theo allows me to put on him, while Jude did not (other than in the hospital directly after his birth, when he was in no position to fight me).

Now the leaves are mostly gone from the trees and we're preparing for winter. I smelled it for the first time two days ago while taking out the garbage, which initially gave me a little thrill. Hoping to milk that feeling into January, but I'm doubtful this will happen.

Happy fall, y'all.

picking blueberries

Well, the leaves are turning and I'm reminded that it's time to finish up some summer posting. I suck at blogging, seriously. If you've stuck around, bless your heart, and thank you :)

Since I fall short of logging all of the stuff we do, I've decided to only expect myself to post happenings that fall within these categories:

1. Amusing (to me) stories, usually involving the short and stout people who live here
2. Major (to us) events in our lives
3. Photos I can share quickly with only a few words
4. Traditions I'm starting that will hopefully weave themselves into the fabric of our family
5. Posts that give me an excuse to list things

The perfectionist in me can calm down about the fact that there is no way to log it all, nor is it a necessary part of life. As long as I take some photos and video now and then, and dust off this blog once in awhile, my family members will not resent me as adults for not documenting anything. There will be plenty to read and look at, let's not ruin the moments we're having by salivating over making sure they're forever captured.

Just a little self-pep talk there.

On to one of our new traditions: a little blueberry-picking expedition to Post Farms!

I don't think Jude could quite believe that there was an entire field of blueberries that no one was eating. He wasted no time.

Whose pail is whose?

Theo's usual mode of obsessively watching what Jude is doing.

Grass in the face. Thanks, bro.

They both have old man hats now. Jude actually wore the blue one Theo has on, but probably at eight weeks old rather than eight months (the child has a huge gourd).

One thing I recall happening as we left... Jude was walking ahead of me down a blueberry row to the car and suddenly yelled, "QUESADILLA!" (Kids.)

We plan to pick these every year, freeze them, and use them in our oatmeal and smoothies all year long. Nothing like freshly picked food, even if you're eating it frozen in January.