The raspin' of the tangled leaves

There are days in October that are perfect. Days when friends visit and rains come.
Sometimes they are not whole days, but moments. Pulling a chunk from a fresh, hot apple-cider doughnut. A rosy cheeked little daughter poking into the soft fresh earth with twigs. A nursery rhyme sung askew by a baby just learning to sing. Curly heads and calico. October breaks the whole dry, hot, parched world open and pours in whiskey, water, wine. Feeds us and quenches our thirst and whispers poetry on the winds. When were there ever winds before? Every storm feels new.


On Wednesday morning Amber and Milla stopped by for a visit on their way up to Tahoe. It was refreshing to sit and talk with these moonsisters of mine. In my heart, always a little warm comfortable bonfire in their presence. 

Milla brought us a pretty treat, her handmade salve that smells and feels good as it looks.




We had to wave good-bye for a long time.


It started to rain as we drove country roads and Polly fell asleep in the car. Lucy and I spent a little time visiting the chickens and picking out our favorites; kale and chard and winesap apples and Isis Candy cherry tomatoes at Five String Farm.










I set up the camera for a little self-timer shot of the two of us but the setting was on two seconds instead of ten, so this was what we got. Then a car drove up and I was too embarrassed to try again, so we'll take it.


Our crepe myrtle out front is in full color. I know from every year we've lived here to enjoy that view out the window because it will be gone in a week. 


The rain stopped, the sun came out, there was a cold bite to the air and the girls were glad to put on fluffy sweaters.




And we made homemade pizza for dinner and snacked on our harvest bounty.







And then today, Darin's day off, we took the chance on a not-too-busy weekday to head to some of our favorite Apple Hill spots. 



Apple Ridge Farm has our favorite hay maze. 




And we picked out a couple jack-o-lantern pumpkins at Rainbow Orchards just down the road.


Prettiest gnome garden next door.




Waiting for our apple-cider doughnuts, they make them to order: hot and fresh. 





Before heading home we paid visits to all the crazy scarecrows and wandered amongst the hay bales.






Lucy wore a vintage dress gifted to her when she was six months old by her auntie Addie.



Most perfect moment of all: bringing dinner to these sweet friends tonight and meeting their new little October 24 bundle. I think a Scorpio hanging in the basket of Libra's balance is a pretty much perfect combo. 


 I hope that Halloween weekend brings plenty of tricks and treats, magic and spooks to all of you! 


Comments

Unknown said…
That little flour cover hand perched on her thigh. My goodness.
And your opening words are full of poetry.

Happy fall.
October 30, 2015 at 5:04 AM
anne said…
beautiful! those dresses the girls have on are just so sweet! your October seems like it's been a good one!
October 31, 2015 at 10:46 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

pretty baby

Image
have you all seen the 1978 movie Pretty Baby?  addie has been telling me about it for years and finally darin and i watched it. i directly fell in love with the lush new orleans ambience, and you all know i fancy old brothels . the hats, slips, corsets, bloomers, petticoats, stockings, eyelet lace and cleavage...i was dying. the subject matter is somewhat difficult. brooke shields plays 12-year-old Violet, growing up in the brothel with her mother's (a glorious Susan Sarandon) nonchalant guidance.  saucy young Violet is over sexualized and objectified, and the film doesn't seem overly concerned about that fact. i kind of appreciated that indifference, as if glimpsing some other world with a completely different set of values, without judgment. however the scenes are shown with such grace and beauty that you get the feeling the director Louis Malle was somehow getting off on the whole thing. i guess that's what i found a tad disturbing. if
Read more

"I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin..."

Image
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belong to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. It struck me, when I read Song of Myself several years ago, that thirty-seven years old , that magical Whitmanesque age, was still in the future for me. How exciting that felt! To know that this wonderful age that was such a pure and boisterous beginning for the bard, was something I could look forward to. To know that I could set forth on new adventures, and sing the praises of the earth, and be wild and merry and voluptuous and bold. Now and forever. and especially at 37. And so suddenly I am here! That lu
Read more

handmade homes take to the open road

Image
i want this to be us so bad...rollin away in a fairytale bus made of wood and wheels, porch and books. this is from another book in the series of rad 70s handmade house books that i've written about before and missa wrote about here  ( raddest houseboats ever, ever, ever ) this one is all about handmade hippie houses on the road. we have it at the bookery in the locked case; it's a collectible and thus way out of my price range. but i still get to look at its gloriousness. these photos of the pages look much better than mine, found in this wonderful little delight here , check these caravans out: standing in the mist with its little terra cotta pots and windowpanes, killing this fairytale heart a mine. i can picture joey and emily in this one, our neighbors. and this one can house addie and art, and we'll drive cross the prairies together. this covered-wagon one seems the most fun of all. roll back the canvas and sleep
Read more