On Wednesday, our wives' club scheduled a little jaunt up to Stovers' Farm, where we have previously picked peaches, grapes, and apples, for an autumn hayride.
It was chilly.
But not so chilly as to prohibit some friendly wrestle-mania.
And the tractor must be watched very carefully and very soberly.
Then everyone got to pick a pumpkin from the pumpkin patch. (I was grateful it was not a real pumpkin patch with dirt and pumpkin vines, but rather full of pre-picked pumpkins on a freshly-mowed lawn.)
Bella made several choices, picking the best possible pumpkin. . . . . . then spotting another one, much better.We were treated to an interesting story from a darling grandma about farmers and Potowatomi Indians, then they gave us samples of fantastic apple cider. But the biggest hit was the choosing of a single apple from the apple orchard. Annabel picked one nearly as big as her own head. I thought she'd soon lose interest, but she consumed that entire apple, core and all. Yum.If I had access to an enormous haybale, I'd make one of these happy jack-o-lanterns too.