America, the beautiful

I kept humming this to myself when we first arrived back in the States and I can't help but think it even more now the Fall has arrived. Fall, what a perfect plum of a word, plopping from your mouth like a big piece of caramel apple. Toward the end of the Summer, Emma and I picked a few cooler mornings to go and pick berries. Her punnet never had any in them as she ate as many as she picked. Then she came after the ones I had picked til her fingers and lips were raspberry coloured. It felt more decadent than chocolate, cake or ice-cream to just pop the raspberries, strawberries, blueberries and cherries of the late season into your mouth whenever you felt like it. I keep buying the strawberries from the shop because I am not ready to stop eating them. In an effort to move onto the Fall seasonal fruit, Emma and I decided to go apple picking this morning. We went out to the farm and it turned out they were having a fall festival. We fed the goats and the three little pigs. Emma said hello to Dorothy, Toto and the Tinman scarecrows. We chased each other around and around the dark straw-bale maze. Then we went on a wagon ride in a bed of straw to the pumpkin patch. It was so fun to pick out two pumpkins and load them in our bag, all the while exclaiming how excited Dad was going to be about our pumpkins. Once we were back in the car and on our way home, Emma shouted from the backseat; "What about the apples?!"