Sam and The Great Pumpkin Farm

Five days after discovering that Sam has strep throat, I'm sitting here at the kitchen table staring out at the orange/yellow/red leafed trees outside my window and feeling cabin feverish. Thankfully, Sam is coming out of his germy funk and feeling much more like his normal self (the self that loves to tear the house apart and climb the bookshelves when my back is turned). I'm glad that the little guy feels better but the sudden return of toddler energy reserves (saved up for the past five days) is enough to make me feel ten years older than the creases around my eyes actually say I am.

While my crazy little man sleeps a little longer (if I'm lucky), I thought I'd share a teensy bit about a trip we took to Guthrie's Pumpkin Farm just last weekend (as in 9.5 days ago). It's about an hour north of Chattanooga and is tucked away on a county road that winds its way through rural countryside. It's exactly what I dream about during the long, hot southern summers when I imagine taking the perfect fall day trip and the cozy cardigan I'll be wearing.

That particular Saturday morning, Matt wasn't really in the mood for a little trip up I-75, but those of us who stay at home all week keeping small people alive seriously needed to get out. So, after a tiny bit of argument, we semi-agreed on heading to Guthrie's. By the time we had wended our way through farmland and seen our fair share of cows and tractors, Matt acknowledged what a good idea this trip to the pumpkin farm was.

Indeed.

He even suggested that we make it a family tradition.

Score.

So, for your viewing pleasure, I've included a few shots of our time at the pumpkin farm. Just to give you a little idea of how much fun Sam had, imagine him in a little plaid shirt and jeans racing through a sunny field of pumpkins, greeting each pumpkin with a pointed finger and an exuberant shout of "PUNKIN!" And yes, it was as entertaining as it sounds.

Wish you could have been there.










And last but not least...

Point and Shoot

I'm not a very good photographer. Actually, being a bad taker of pictures is a family trait. We're all pretty much terrible at actually taking pictures and when we do, they don't win awards. Most of my childhood is documented by fuzzy, out of focus shots of me with the thumb or finger of the person behind the camera making an unexpected cameo. It's a curse I tried to escape by taking three photography classes in college, where I learned how to use a manual camera and even develop my own film (!). I was so sure that Hank, our go-teed (can this be a verb?) professor, would cure me of this obvious fault in my DNA. However, Hank's ability could only do so much.

The advent of the digital camera happened sometime in the 90's, but I didn't actually purchase my first one until about 6 years ago. I'm on my second digital camera and it's definitely done its part in remedying some of the earlier issues with my picture taking inability (i.e. one can see immediately in the viewing window that one's thumb made it into the shot and promptly have a re-do).

In addition to my digital camera, I have discovered the magic of photoshop, more specifically the magic of Picnik.com. Here's a few of the recent shots of Sam that have had some re-touching love. I'd like to think that I've come a long way from the disposable cameras my family swore by for the majority of the 80's and 90's.

::Sam just exiting the dryer, which he had just figured out how to crawl into. Don't worry, I was there for this whole adventure.



::Sam getting a haircut whilst enjoying a Blow Pop, which he enthusiastically called "Pop!"



::Sam eating a waffle in his Sunday morning best (we go to church in a barn, if you were wondering about my low standards for his church wardrobe).



::Sam hanging out at a permanent art installation in Coolidge Park in Chattanooga.



::Sam hearing about the "Itsy Bitsy Spider" from his very expressive "dey" (daddy).

Things of Note or Not

It's been a while. A baby with a stuffy nose and no interest in napping keeps me from writing at my leisure these days. But, for the moment, there seems to be a bit of quiet AND the bathroom has just been cleaned, so it appears that I might have a small space of time here to actually document our life a little.

The last few weeks have included some things. Things of note and things that might not really deserve being blogged about. And yet, I might blog about them anyway. Because I can.

First things first. I thought I'd share a few things I'm a little obsessed with lately.

Movie: The Switch - unexpectedly amazing. Even Matt liked this one. He may have even cried at the end. Or not.
Music: Mumford & Sons - an impulse buy at Target ($9.99) that has turned into a favorite. High fives to random British bands with odd names.
Book: The Help - a lovely story about the Deep South and three women that you wish were your friends by the end of the book.

Second things second. There have been a few Sam milestones that haven't been noted in cyberspace as of yet.

Crawling - a work in progress, but Sam started to crawl this last week to much applause. He seems to be trying to walk at the same time, which isn't working out so well, but to be honest, it's entertaining.

Teeth - or as we like to call them around here, "toofies." I have no explanation for why we do this. So far, there's one on top and two on the bottom. And he likes to rub them together for a seriously cute crooked smile. It's almost too much.

Real Food - Sam had roast beef, mac and cheese and green beans the other night. Turns out he's a carnivore. I also think he may have a hollow leg. He puts away food like a linebacker and he's only 233 lbs away from a linebacker's starting weight.

Third things third. So, I'm hesitant to write this, but it's looking like we may be moving. You may be responding right now with a "What!?!" Sadly, Nashville is not where we're headed. But, despite no Nashville, this move is a good thing. And yet, I'm starting to be sad about it. And anxious. And maybe even stressed. But, it's a good thing. I keep reminding myself of this. An article I read yesterday explained to me that firstborns tend to resist change. So, here I am, being a firstborn and resisting change. In other news, firstborns also apparently make an average of $100k a year. I didn't know that.

Fourth things fourth. Fall is here. But, not really. It's September 23 and 91 degrees. I'm beginning to be afraid that Al Gore is right. I also feel like this could potentially be a good children's book...

Premise of my children's book: Someone is stealing Fall. They must be found and punished.

Meanwhile, I'm bravely wearing my cardigans and trying to pretend that the leaves on the ground aren't just victims of dry weather, but are in fact "falling" leaves.

And that's the update. Hopefully next time I post, I'll have more details about the move and fingers crossed the temperature outside will be less than 80 degrees.

I Heart Fall

FALL. This is my favorite word right now. It magically conjures up images in my mind of pumpkin patches, cornmazes, hayrides, cardigan-wearing, apple orchards, leaves falling, long shadows in the afternoon, chilly evenings, woodsmoke, football games, hot chocolate, and the list could go on and on and on. I have a serious love affair with fall every year.

But, I've wondered why I feel this strongly about a season and there are a few reasons, I think, for why I can wax poetic over these all-too-short three months of the year. The first is that I'm from Georgia, not too far from HOT-lanta actually, and for as long as I can remember, once August rolled around every year, I was ready to make the move to Canada for some relief from the sweltering Georgia heat. I'd cut out magazine photos of autumnal things (leaves, pumpkins, people wearing sweaters) and tuck it in the corner of the picture frame above my desk, just to remind me that one day, in the not too distant future, the temperature really would dip below 90 degrees and I might have a good hair day again.

But, there's another reason for my adoration of all things autumnal. Beyond just the obvious relief from oppressive, Deep South temperatures, there is something intensely nostalgic about fall, something that hangs about the idea of it and makes me feel like journaling at Starbucks, writing letters to old friends and reading favorite books again. (It also makes me want to go to Dollywood, but that's for another time, another blog post.) I can't quite put my finger on this wistful feeling, I just know that fall brings this curious longing for something I can't name.

Thank goodness for C.S. Lewis who put some of this into words, especially in his Weight of Glory, but also in some of his other writings. In Pilgrim's Regress, he talks about "that unnameable something, desire for which pierces us like a rapier at the smell of a bonfire, the sound of wild ducks flying overhead, the title of The Well at the World's End, the opening lines of "Kubla Khan," the morning cobwebs in late summer, or the noise of falling waves."

Lewis called this desire sehnsucht, "a German noun translated as 'longing', 'yearning' and 'craving', or in a wider sense a type of 'intensely missing'." I love this word for some reason, even though there's something distinctly melancholy about it.

Despite my best efforts, I can't help but wish away the long, hot summers every year. I wait by the air conditioning vent during those blistering months, knowing that on the other side of August (or sometimes September), along with cooling temperatures, there will also be the old rememberings in this new fall in the midst of hayrides and the smell of woodsmoke and the worn sweater I'll pull down from the closet.

This year my favorite season includes sweet Sam and I can't wait to take him to the mountains and jump in piles of leaves and feed him pumpkin pie (pureed, of course). As my friend Lex would say, "shared joy is double joy," and I'm guessing this fall will be the most joy-full yet.

Pumpkin Spice Lattes, here I come.