All those pictures are on Pop's camera because I wanted to live in the moment instead of behind a lens for once.
I'm so glad I did too because the day was simply beautiful.
The cloudless Shenandoah sky was big as Texas as we took in the afternoon.
Grayson's favorite thing was roping a plastic steer. He swung the lasso over his head like he was an understudy in Gunsmoke. He'd toss it over the steer's horns, catching one horn every time. Dropping the slack, he'd then meticulously walk the remaining rope away from the steer. Turning around, he'd give a solid yank of his line and smile like Hopalong Cassidy when the plastic beast hit the dirt with a heaving thunk. My son is a cowboy.
Abby preferred the mile long tunnel slide.
She ran up a steep hill of grass to get the to slide with the most determined uphill prance known to man. Even her daddy (a fast runner himself) was impressed with her fortitude. Andy watched at the top as she climbed into the tunnel slide and I waited for her little familiar face to pop out of the darkness at the end.
Because there were ridges in the tunnel's tubing, you could hear her little voice singing a made up happy song with the vibrato of a baby lamb long before you could see actually see her. That's the Boompa in her. Abby hums a made up happy song when she is busy doing something she loves. No words, just a little tune that wanders along with her mood. It's like hearing what's inside her uncluttered heart. There is nothing better.
My favorite was the jumping pillow. Which is a misnomer. There is nothing soft and cushy about that thing; that sucker was hard. When I was freed from the worry of crashing disastrously into one of my own children, I plowed my feet hard into the pillow with the promise of being sloppily propelled into the air so high my stomach dropped.. That was a very good time. I want one.
Not sure what Andy's favorite activity was but if I had to guess it would be the entire day. His parents, his family, his favorite orchard and acres and acres of open land absolutely bursting with the tangible baton pass of one season into the next. I could see his eyes devouring wine colored leaves while we all inhaled a ciderbreeze coming from fallen apples worked over by the autumn floor.
Magical fall, the only one around who knows how to age gracefully without even trying.
Also, we almost didn't get The Caramel Apple because the kids were tired, we were beat and it was getting late. Last minute, Pop and I scrambled up to get a few and thank goodness we did. So much joy comes from a dipped fruit on a stick.
Always get The Caramel Apple. It's the best part.