Woah, October!!!

Where did you go? Today, your last day, the eve of November, is a sad day for me. I will miss you, sweet October. I will miss your warmth, your autumnal cool, the angle of your sun, your brilliant color, your crisp scent with the sound of your fallen leaves underfoot.

We will miss you, but we have used you to the fullest, with long afternoon walks, bike rides on the biking trail, hikes through your deciduous splendor, and much generally-dirty outside romping with wonderful friends.

And we gave you a grand send-off last night, with orange plastic pumpkins filled to the top, too heavy for the cold little hands of Fireworks and Spiderman to carry in the end, and Little Puppy snuggly wrapped up on Mama, fast asleep.

Glorious October, I hope that I have taken enough pictures of you to last me through the bleak, color-weak winter to come. I wish I could paint my ceiling clear October Blue and make my walls gleam with Maple, Sweet Gum, Sumac and Oak.

As I look back on the month, I realize I only completed two posts! Gasp! I apologize for my lack of blogger correspondence in this month. I will surely place the blame on my little men, since, between the two, from the time I put them to bed until the time I give up and retire with them, they have kept me jumping up out of my seat every half hour to get them back to sleep. And seeing as how after-bed-time is the time I use to jump into the web world, I must change my typical blogging time... So, I will now send off this post, full of overflowing love for all October has given us, and with wishes that you, too, have used its gifts to the fullest.

Chestnuts, Deer Droppings and Wandering Souls

For us, autumn means, among other things, gathering chestnuts. And gathering chestnuts means dodging deer droppings. Deer love chestnuts. But they are not the only ones. The kids and I will gather chestnuts whenever we get the chance. There are many filled pockets, shirts, skirts, strollers, hats, and whatever else we happen to have on hand to stuff full of chestnuts. Sweet, sweet chestnuts. Most years we hit up neighborhood trees in Marietta when we can find them. But this year we hit the jackpot.

In my hometown, there is the perfect chestnut-gathering spot. At the intersection of State Route 536 and Bear's Run Road lies the Kasserman property. It is my favorite property in my hometown. There are two brick houses that sit near the road, one of which was unfortunately gutted by fire years ago. Near the main house there are mountain laurel and rhododendron bushes, massive holly trees and perennial gardens to die for. Behind the houses are wide, lush fields, several old, weathered barns, rock gardens, mulberry trees, persimmons, and a plethora of chestnut trees. I believe I counted 7.

This past week my dad was on vacation. My dad doesn't "vacation" during his time off from work. He intends to enjoy that time, and for him, leaving home and traveling is not enjoyable, so to speak. What he prefers is to stay home and be surrounded by his loved ones. So my dad's vacation week always involves my children coming to stay for at least part of the week. Max and I even stayed for a few days this time. So there was plenty of time for leisure, and for my family that includes long walks to do things such as gather chestnuts. This year the chestnuts were definitely plentiful, wouldn't you say?

And there are even more where those came from! The trees were still loaded down.

The pickings weren't slim by any means, but there were a few less than one would have imagined looking at the thorny hulls covering the trees and empty on the ground. But it was quite evident who got to the chestnuts first by the large piles of droppings found every other step under the trees. Yes, the deer do love sweet chestnuts.

"EWWW! Gross!!!" Bella exclaims as I snap this photo. "You can't take a picture of deer poop! That's disgusting!" Then she wanders off to explore the expanse of fields on her own. Yes, even as much as I have raised her in nature, she is still a little girl in so many stereotypical ways. I should have mentioned to her that at the age of 2 I had her outside in the late autumn, rummaging through deer poop with a stick to get hold of one of the seeds that the deer were depositing all over my yard. We planted one to see if it would grow. I wanted to know what those deer loved so much. Now, thanks to the fantabulous Julie Zick, I know just what that seed would have turned into, had it grown. We would have had a glorious Paw Paw tree on our hands now. I should have tried more seeds...

Sometimes it doesn't matter if you raise them sorting through deer poop, eventually they will think it is gross. And along with those stereotypical girl genes, there are others that come from the paternal side of her heritage. I am a homebody, yet even as much of a homebody as I am, I do believe my little girl has a wandering spirit like her father. While I am wanting to get out of our in-town house and move to the country, settle down and have a big garden, plant an orchard, get some chickens, my husband is calling me up out of the blue asking what it would take for us to sell all we own and buy an RV to travel the country, only stopping for odd jobs when we need more money. His wanderlust is setting in. And it was after our time at Nan and Pap's that I realized my girl is the same as her Papa. With the hundreds of pictures that I took, I only had a handful of Bella. From our chestnut-gathering walk, I have many photos of Kane, stuffing his pockets and hat.

I have pictures of Max as he spent the time, snuggled in the wrap with his Pap.

But of Bella, I have a single picture of her and her Nan...

before she wandered off on her own to explore.

And the same goes for most everything else that we did that week. My girl has a wandering spirit, and although it breaks my heart, I know that someday it will probably take her farther away from me than I would like, at least geographically. Which makes it even more important to work my hardest now to strengthen the bond between us that won't let the miles get in our way in the future. Then, when she is older, just maybe she will feel a pull in autumn to travel home to me, just to gather chestnuts, dodge deer droppings, and rest her wandering soul.

Apple Daze

I have been working on this post for probably two weeks now. I couldn't get the pictures to upload for some reason, but I have finally managed to get it together by adding one picture at a time. It is a little outdated, but I still wanted to share it with you as I had it prepared before.



As I head off to sort and cut and crock-pot the last of my apples gathered at a friend's Apple Cider Party and turn them into dark, delicious, glorious apple butter, I thought I would share with you some pictures from our wonderful day under the apple trees. It was hot but breezy (thanks to Ike), and the day was spent gathering, sorting, cutting, pressing and juicing apples. It was tons of fun, and more Food for my Soul. There was also a hayride, which the kids loved.



Okay, and I loved it, too...


While Adam and Kane were cidering...



Max and I were gathering apples...
At which time I handed the hubby the camera and said, "Here, please take a picture of your wife toting your son around on her back picking apples." Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands. So these photos are courtesy of Adam!


Check it out! My big ol' box of apples, gathered with Max happily strapped on my back. My legs were sore for a week.





The beatifully rich cider flowed from the big old press and the smell was heavenly.

There was a wonderful Great Dane as well, which had the kids and me in doggy heaven. We ate by Dauncey, played with Dauncey, got kisses from Dauncey, and rolled around on Dauncey all day.




Max was especially enamored. He loves him some big ol' dawgs. Get um dawgs, Masswhale. Get um dawgs.





Needless to say, we had a wonderfully glorious time. Now comes the quite enjoyable part of the harvest, which is turning those apples into something that will last all winter. My primitive hunter-gatherer brain is happy, as it has been desparate to put away for this coming winter.