weekending: formative years
All weekend people have been talking about October. Everyone’s full of superlatives, shaking their heads in disbelief, having conversations that sound like this:
“Can you believe October?”
“It’s just insane.”
“The blue sky?”
We picked apples, and sliced apples, and sauced apples, and froze, canned and dried apples all day Saturday (thank you, Geygans!). It was a sticky, lusty celebration of the bounty of free local food with a little chopper’s carpal tunnel and apple-gazing neck-crick thrown in. Afterwards, I told Dan I was done, happily done, but unequivocally done. And then, Saturday night after coming home from dinner with friends, my friend Melanie called to tell me the tree at her father-in-law’s was full of big delicious macintoshes up for grabs. Maybe just a few more boxes.
~this is my friend Kati, the apple-fairy, the harvest goddess, the saves-my-ass-every-week-girlfriend, because she comes over and helps me process food, makes me laugh, and doesn’t blink when Rose climbs on her lap and inspects her bellybutton~
We spent Sunday in the mountains, just poking around. Dan’s getting focused on his upcoming deer hunt, spending a lot of time behind his binoculars and running through potential hunting scenarios with me. ‘Round these parts we say he’s got buck fever. “I have princess fever, and pony fever and jewelry fever,” Rose says. Col claims to have “snuggling fever.” Yum.
On Friday the whole family stayed up way past bedtime at a party out in the country. Col scamped around outside, relocating firewood, crossing ditches and playing with baby turkeys and dogs and goats. Rose danced for an hour with various 20-somethings under a disco ball. Then in an unfortunate mid-party incident, a dog killed the host’s 2 goats. In a flash a butchering station was set up in the tall grass, with none other than Col eagerly wielding a headlamp and volunteering to hold the organs (pumping and filtering and shunting just minutes earlier) as they came free from the goats’ body cavities.
When we finally dragged kids off the dance floor and butchering arena, respectively, to drive home under a big bright moon, Dan said, “Kids, these are your formative years.” Indeed. Indeed.
ps: locals, I have a book review in the Durango Telegraph this week.
also, linking with Amanda, who is funny this week.