The last few days have been exceptionally delightful as that much anticipated fall weather starts to settle over Boston.
I wish I could find the words to describe the mix of nostalgia, romance, and joy that overwhelms me when I step outside into the fall air.
As a young child every year my family and I would make a trip to Buell's Orchard. I can still see the long windy roads we would drive along, splashed with the orange, yellow, purple, and pink colors of fall. We would listen to Christmas music in the car. Twila Paris was my favorite, especially "In the Bleak Mid Winter."
Upon arriving, my family and I would head straight for a little wooden stand off by some young trees. Trays and trays of free donuts and cider were set up along the hut. I would dance around the counter, trying to avoid the cloud of bees that was inevitably buzzing around all the sugar.
Hay rides, apple picking, folk music, and pumpkins followed. We could take the biggest pumpkin we could carry and, boy, did I take that seriously!
Once it even snowed on the way home!
I hope when I have kids there are orchards nearby to take them to. I hope there are sticky cider donuts nibbled by baby bees and cider fresh from the press. I hope they have to hold tight to their sister while on the hay ride to keep from being jostled off. And I hope they belt out Christmas music on the way home even though it's way to early and they won't listen to it again until after Thanksgiving.
**If you're wondering where my sense of humor went and what brought on this bout of sentimental goo. . .sorry. Fall weather always does this to me. Just wait 'til the leaves start to change, and I get my first caramel apple. . .
I wish I could find the words to describe the mix of nostalgia, romance, and joy that overwhelms me when I step outside into the fall air.
As a young child every year my family and I would make a trip to Buell's Orchard. I can still see the long windy roads we would drive along, splashed with the orange, yellow, purple, and pink colors of fall. We would listen to Christmas music in the car. Twila Paris was my favorite, especially "In the Bleak Mid Winter."
Upon arriving, my family and I would head straight for a little wooden stand off by some young trees. Trays and trays of free donuts and cider were set up along the hut. I would dance around the counter, trying to avoid the cloud of bees that was inevitably buzzing around all the sugar.
Hay rides, apple picking, folk music, and pumpkins followed. We could take the biggest pumpkin we could carry and, boy, did I take that seriously!
Once it even snowed on the way home!
I hope when I have kids there are orchards nearby to take them to. I hope there are sticky cider donuts nibbled by baby bees and cider fresh from the press. I hope they have to hold tight to their sister while on the hay ride to keep from being jostled off. And I hope they belt out Christmas music on the way home even though it's way to early and they won't listen to it again until after Thanksgiving.
**If you're wondering where my sense of humor went and what brought on this bout of sentimental goo. . .sorry. Fall weather always does this to me. Just wait 'til the leaves start to change, and I get my first caramel apple. . .
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