Just one more year... (and pumpkin tour stop 1, Wing Farms)

Jon got older this weekend. Forget the fact that we don't age by year, but instead in minute increments throughout every moment of every day, it was this weekend that he finally added another year to his belt and came within only another 365 days of my own decade. His real birthday was Saturday and we celebrated by spending a couple of hours at the Borders store, enjoying lunch there, and then coming home to work on the website. After that he was a kind enough husband and father to forgo any usual birthday shindigging for that fantastic after-dark hike in the woods. He did get a fantastic cheesecake out of the deal, though; a gift that required no less than a few hours of work, mind you.

The other thing that we did this weekend, in addition to our all morning tour of borders and our magical night hike, was make our first tour of a local pumpkin patch. Our goal this year, because we love fall and because the football season is looking somewhat bleak, is to visit at least three different local pumpkin patches or orchards in search of a favorite spot. When we lived over on the east side of ann arbor town we thought that Wiards Orchard would be our number one spot, and it was fun, but having to pay to get into the country fair before you can even begin looking for a pumpkin, for which you'll have to shell out additional cash later, was less than appealing. After moving to our new location last summer we thought Jenny's Farm Stand would become our mainstay, but they have no on site orchard or pumpkin patch, so their main draw is a number of depressed looking goats and horses, and a rather tall mountain of straw. So we're on the hunt for a new fall hangout in which to place our loyalty.

Wing Farms, the original home of 99% of the hundreds of free rocks you will find in our landscaping, would appear to be a shoo-in for the job, thanks to its proximity and its obvious down-home, family-owned atmosphere, and that's the farm we visited today. It's also the farm we visited at this time last year to bring home hay, corn stalks, and pumpkins. Unfortunately, it's not going to make the cut. Aside from the fact that the pumpkins are not your standard carving pumpkin (which they make clear in their advertisements for "giant pumpkins" as opposed to "the same kind of pumpkin you can buy anywhere else"), the staff is definitely made up of a down home, family owning bunch and their immediate friends and relatives. That wouldn't be bad at all, if they seemed to give a rip about the non-related people shopping there. Last year we came away with the same disappointing feeling that these people don't really want to be selling pumpkins, to which I have to ask, then why do you? So, if you want a giant, strangely shaped, and/or oddly colored pumpkin for your Halloween decorating, this is the place to go, especially if you have no desire to strike up a friendly conversation with the farm staff, or if you don't mind coming away feeling like a twit for having had the nerve to want to buy some of the goods they are showcasing. Local is great, as long as local is great.

All good things

We must have known that it couldn't last. As we went about our days enjoying the novelty of the cool but beautiful fall weather and all of its charms and activities we had to have known that the tempest was just about the bend. Cool weather, even cold weather, is completely enjoyable, especially when the sun is shining, but even when not. Wet weather, on the other hand, can be hard to work around, though far from impossible to enjoy. We intended to greet yesterday early with beautiful plans for a fun filled morning downtown followed by a relaxing fall afternoon of football. Instead we would find our first waking moments tempered by dark gray clouds urging us to roll over and return to sleep. So we lured ourselves out of bed and into the chill, damp morning with visions of pancakes and coffee at our little breakfast place at the edge of town. Being in a little town diner so early on a Saturday morning is like putting ones ear to the heart and lips of the village, and I'm sure we came away from our meal knowing more about the pulse of our town than we could have gleaned from reading its little weekly paper. Almost as alluring as warm breakfast was the draw of the monthly used book sale at the library, right around the corner. Where else can one go shopping amidst thousands of titles, coming away with armloads and bagloads of books, including several anthologies (of great poems, fiction, and short stories—some really great writers included) all for a total that didn't even require a Hamilton, which is good because we needed him at the fair that came next. And wouldn't you know, just as the fair was opening up, so did the clouds, letting loose the mournful deluge they had been hinting at since dawn. No matter, really. It is just as fun to attack a clown, feed a sheep, and ride a horse (not any horse, mind you, but a percheron, since the itty bitty pony wasn't good enough) in the rain as when it is dry, and in fact, the warm cider and doughnuts, ingested under the protective canopy of the gazebo, was an even more gratifying snack in such fall-like fall weather. Really, we didn't lament the outcome of the day until some four plus hours later, faced with a disappointing end to a bitter football game, putting our first loss of the year up on the board. Yes, all good things must come to an end.

Take that!  Who likes clowns anyway?

Frolicking, and some portraits

Like spring, the arrival fall is sometimes a matter of subtle finesse, and sometimes a more of a rude awakening.  The overnight cold snap, demanding that we turn on our heat and collect all our lingering tomatoes regardless of ripening stage, was much a rude awakening.  Today's high reaching into the sixties, with the sun bathing the harvest land in warm hues, was much more like finesse.  Calvin and I walked to the library again today, visiting with our friends, the squirrels, as we went, and taking our lunch along with so that we could pick a resting spot on our way home.  Calvin picked the gazebo in our little downtown park, and, before settling in, stopped by the bakery for fresh pretzels and tomato juice (the lady at the counter double and triple checking with Calvin that he knew it was tomato juice not apple juice, and my deciding not to enlighten her with the fact that he's only ever had and loved one of these, and not the one you'd expect).  Cheese, bread, and apples enjoyed in the sun that, at its fall slant, was creeping in under the vast geometric roof.  While there Calvin let me have a little fun with the camera and then, with that boundless three-year-old energy, took off frolicking through the green park space in the afternoon sun.  And I could have no better thirty-plus-year-old enjoyment than watching that boundless energy from a reclined and relaxed position on a nearby park bench.  The rest of the shots are in the October 2009 album.

Waxing into fall

The final days of a summer that was almost non-existent seem to have come and gone.  Day after day we waited for the high temperatures and humid air that we usually complain about through most of July and August, but they never really came and now we are here, summer waning, fall waxing.  I'm hoping for an Indian Summer (though I'm sure that's far from pc), but these wee hours of autumn's dawn are equally as pleasing.  It is still warm enough, if we bundle up, to go for evening walks, and because the sun sets earlier every day we see more bats before we have to go in for bed, and we love to look for the bats.  Even better, it's cool enough that the throngs of people who usually crowd our tiny village streets on summer nights are mostly home, ensconced in the light and warmth of their hearths, when we don sweaters and descend upon the Dairy Queen, then take our cones and, in the dimming light of day, walk along the newly released flow of Mill Creek, investigating the construction that is still underway there.  This time of year means it's cool enough to walk into town for story time without arriving at the library drenched in sweat, but warm enough still to walk.  On our way Calvin delights in pointing out the changing colors on the trees and the squirrels who are foraging for nuts to bury in preparation for the winter.  We spent upwards of fifteen minutes one day watching a squirrel do just that, and I'm sure I enjoyed it as much as he did.  On days when the sun is out, warming the earth just that little bit more, we are still able to enjoy one of our favorite summer pastimes, packing a picnic lunch and choosing somewhere, anywhere in the village, to sit and enjoy our food while watching the world go on around us.

I think I say every year that fall is my favorite season, but I'll say it again just for good measure.  I love the anxiety of the college football season, the colors in the trees, the cold nights and cool days, the warmth of traditional fall meals, the smell of the harvest.  It is a sensational time of year.

Another winner!

I could be talking about the football game, though today's game against Indiana left much to be desired, and may prove to be a real harbinger of doom (especially if, as it looks, Forcier is nursing an injured throwing arm), we can actually add it as another W on our schedule.  It was a dismal reminder, though, that we are relying on the courage and convictions of a freshman quarterback or two.

It does not, however, take a winning game to enjoy a fantastic pregame party, and this was one of my favorites.  At least once a season we rock the tailgate world with a full on made to order breakfast buffet, with eggs (plain, scrambled, or omelet? And would you like green pepper, mushrooms, or onion on that?  And what kind of cheese?), pancakes (would that be blueberry, chocolate chip, or plain?), bread (feel free to use the toaster, and help yourself to butter or homemade jam), and, of course, the usual sides of fresh fruit, sausage, bacon, cheese, crackers, taco dip, and chips, not to mention mimosas, beer, and wine (those are not all breakfast foods, you say?  Not a standard breakfast, maybe, but this is a tailgate, after all).  This is by far my favorite tailgate of the season, and as I walked back from the game I pitied all the people who were cleaning up the pizza or sub boxes from their own pregame revelries.  We love our tailgating crowd!  But alas, we've been spoiled for all other tailgating experiences.