Moving Day

On the year anniversary of our moving day, the family traveled to two of the fall festivals we missed last year because we were schlepping boxes.  Maybe because I’m a glutton for punishment and need to pack as much into a day as humanly possible (well, inhumanly, but I always did have unrealistic expectations) or maybe because I felt like I had to make up for time lost last year, we visited a farm open-house of sorts to celebrate their yearly press of apples for cider and then a local park arts-and-crafts-music-storytelling-farmers’ market-hayride-proceeds-benefitting-the-community-garden extravaganza.  It was the quintessential New England fall day.  The leaves and fields and skies just opened up in a beautiful way.  In a way that they can nearly anywhere, I suppose, but which seems to be happening more since we’ve moved.

Gourd neighbors

Gourd neighbors

I half expected Wayne Carini to come walking up

I half expected Wayne Carini to come walking up

headon

Beautiful buggers

Beautiful buggers

maplsyrup

 

 

%d bloggers like this: