On Saturday, Steve, Jonah, and Ian kissed a sickly Jonah good-bye, and we headed out for apple picking. Apple picking is a fall ritual, and it's one of the best things about living in this corner of the country. We drove to our favorite apple farm along a winding highway that hugged the Hudson River. The air smelled like damp earth and brought the first cool bite of Canadian winds.
I didn't bring my camera, because it was raining. We picked apples in blue rain slickers and muddy sneakers. Here's a picture from a sunnier trip in 2007.
The boys are a foot taller, but otherwise, it was a similar experience.
Despite Jonah's illness and Noah-style raining going on around here, we managed to squeeze in a short walk through the woods on Sunday. With all the moisture in the air, the ground of the forest was a carpet of moss. I had Ian bend down to touch the moss and showed him how many shades of green could be found right at our feet. The tree bark was nearly black. A few early trees had turned yellow, but the full riot of color is still a few weeks away.
Again I forgot my camera, but here's a shot from a few years ago.
This is who we are. We are a family that walks through woods.