A Bag of Apples and a Dash of Courage

Soooo… sometimes I'm reminded that the smaller, less momentous occasions in life need to be celebrated in their own small ways. Take, for example, this past weekend's little to-do our family experienced.

The kids and I awoke to a perfect, sunny, 60° fall day. My husband had already left to run a community football program, so we agreed to meet him for lunch at the apple orchard. Haralsons are in season and the kids were eager to have another go at apple picking.

Ten minutes into our visit to the apple lodge, my daughter left my side at the maple syrup and candy shelves, where I was crouched next to her little brother, to take a peek at the caramel apples. Except that's not where she went. Enticed by the apple sample table, she decided a nice slice of an Empire was in order. I hadn't yet noticed that she had left my side when she rushed up to me, in a panic, clutching her finger. She certainly sliced something – but it wasn't the Empire.

A family fun day trip to the apple orchard shouldn't be capped off with a frenzied drive to the ER. But, life being unpredictable and all, that's exactly where the four of us sat. This was my daughter's first foray into the realm of stitches, and she wanted mom to sit right next to her on the gurney in the exam room. Now, historically, these things make me awfully woozy. But, since it wouldn't do to have both of us crying and cringing, I had no choice but to toughen up a bit.

I don't particularly relish having to physically restrain my kids when they're hurt and scared, but luckily for me, the promise of a new Barbie doll if she was brave and stopped crying did the trick, and she settled down enough for the doctor to proceed with the Novocain. Hey, bribery is certainly not beneath me in these instances, and I do believe anyone who endures having the side of his or her finger sewn back on surely deserves a shiny new toy.

When the ordeal was over, the nurse enthused that she now had "kitty whiskers" in her finger, just like her beloved orange tabby at home. She smiled a bit through her tear-pooled eyes. Once bandaged up, she was eager to stop at the store for her new Barbie. This, of course, had my five-year-old informing me that, "It's not fair! Why should she get a toy? Can't I get one too?" Dad informed him he could absolutely get a new toy – all he had to do was first get a couple shots and then some stitches. Apparently he didn't want Legos quite that badly.

These moments are tough for parents, and make your heart ache for your child. I hate needles and I hate getting stitches even more, but I would have volunteered without a thought if I could have taken her place. But they're important life lessons for kids, too. She made it through her first laceration, and proved to be a brave little girl.

On the drive home, she perked up a bit. "Mommy," she asked, "do you think we could go back to the apple orchard and pick some apples?" Absolutely! A half an hour later, perched atop dad's shoulders, she was reaching for great big red Haralsons high on the boughs.

Among the big things in life – birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, etc. – there are the everyday moments that help shape us and teach us new things about ourselves. Going through a scary and painful "first" and coming out of it brave enough to head back and finish the day – now that's a little life lesson worth celebrating.

Apple Picking!

If you hadn't noticed, apple harvest time is here!

I'm pretty finicky when it comes to apples and their many varieties. I get that from my mother, who got if from her mother before her. I would imagine even my great-grandmother had a propensity toward carefully selecting a half peck of Jonathans, Haralsons or Wealthys for use in apple pie baking, saving the softer Cortlands and McIntosh for the countless quarts of applesauce she surely canned. Truth be told, I was into my college years before a good friend and classmate clued me in that the world would not, in fact, stop spinning should you opt to cut up a bag of Red Delicious apples for pies. Gasp! Surely no one told her those are better left for eating out of hand!

And so it is that every fall my husband and I make our way to the very same apple orchard we've visited for going on our seventeenth harvest season together to bounce along in the wagon ride which pulls us back to the farther corners of the apple orchard where we pick bags full of ripe, deliciously aromatic apples to take home, wash, and cut up for the season's run of pies, crisps, cobblers, strudels, sauces and cakes. No, this isn't the only time of the year that I utilize apples in my kitchen, but it's the best time!

While my son still frowns at eating fruits of any and all varieties, my daughter loves apples. The girl makes this mom proud with the efficiency with which she bites and nibbles neatly down to the core. She's partial to Fuji and Braeburn, but has been known to bite into a tart Granny Smith when that's all that's left in the crisper basket in the fridge. Since her first apple picking experience at the age of five months, our annual fall trip to the apple orchard has been an autumn activity she eagerly looks forward to with fervent anticipation of being perched atop dad's shoulders to reach the good ones. As she is now at the age of seven, she's had to give up her spot to her little brother. This means I will be called upon to hoist her up from time to time to pluck a perfect pomme from the overloaded bough.

After a thoroughly enjoyable time in the petting zoo, we decide it's time to get to pickin'. "Mommy, can we pick Paula Reds this year?" my daughter asks as she pitches and sways gently next to me on the rumbling wagon ride through the orchard. "And how 'bout Zestar!, mommy. Can we try some of those?" This makes me squirm just a tad. I'm a creature of habit. Tried and true is my motto when it comes to apple picking, and some of the newer apple hybrids make me wonder how many varieties are really necessary. There are already thousands! There's nothing at all wrong with a good old McIntosh, I think to myself. At times like these I have to remind myself that change can be okay, and that the Red Delicious apple pie didn't poison me one bit. Perhaps I'll find a new favorite?

But as I'm mulling over new apple varieties like MN 1734 and New York 2, my husband beats me to answering our daughter. "Sure! Let's try something new!" he heartily proclaims. And so we are deposited under a red embossed street sign planted firmly in the earth that reads "PAULA RED." For a moment, I feel as if I'm disembarking a Greyhound Bus in a strange city. This is new territory for me.

But it's all about the kids, right? So here's to new adventures, folks! I'll keep you posted on how these beauties cook up. In the meantime, get out there and enjoy a day in an orchard.

Fall Hayrides – A Rambling Ride Through the Colors

 

What better way to revel in fall's wondrous display of colors and brisk weather than to wend your way through the woods perched atop a hay bale on the back of a wagon? Now that's fall!

Having spent a good number of my childhood afternoons amid the wooded acres of my grandparents' farm, it simply doesn't feel like fall for me until I partake in a seasonal hayride. Of course, those rambling rides of my youth usually entailed chugging past the cornfields, over the hills and down into a valley adjacent to the wooded fence line to forage for hickory nuts underneath a canopy of brilliant yellows and rusty reds. Once my grandmother and I had filled our pails, buckets and bushel barrels with those meaty little nuts, we'd climb back into the wagon, sit atop our wobbly bales and enjoy the autumn afternoon as my grandpa pulled us back home behind the tractor.

My introduction to fall hayrides may have been simple transportation to and from one of nature's generous little food supplies, but the beauty and simplicity of those rides wasn't lost on me. When my kids were younger, I decided it simply wouldn't do to find the winter winds descending upon us without having taken time out for a fall hayride. As luck would have it, a large regional park/nature reserve in the area was not only home to acres upon acres of wooded splendor, but was also open for business for those looking to hire a hay wagon. This would be a perfect family activity, I decided!

We gathered the extended family one Saturday afternoon in late October and clambered atop bales stacked on a large flatbed wagon. Imagine the kids' delight when they discovered that this ride would not be powered by a pickup or a tractor, but two gentle giant draft horses! Some coaxing was needed to convince the kids to leave the horses be and climb up on the wagon.

A two-hour ride through woodlands and fields was just enough time for children of all ages to jump and play in the loose hay before snuggling down into their parents' straw- and hay-covered laps as the day grew cooler. The afternoon sun illuminated the hues of the season, setting the leaves ablaze in autumn tones of reds, oranges, coppers, yellows and golds. I sat back, my three-year-old daughter in my lap, thinking that fall drives are heavenly, but you miss out on the fresh, cool air in your face and the squirmy, giggling straw-covered urchin in your lap.

When the horses finally pulled the wagon to a gentle, swaying stop, kids and adults jumped down, brushed themselves free of straw and chaff, and ambled toward the picnic area where a bonfire and hotdog roasting sticks were at the ready. The hot mulled apple cider that awaited us helped ward off the chill in the air as my husband and I helped the kids hold their hotdogs over the flames. Later, after a potluck supper, the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers were brought out – a perfect ending to a perfect day. Ooey-gooey s'mores and hot chocolate as the sun set on a lovely fall day.

Don't let this fall escape without finding an apple orchard, park or farm to partake in a fall hayride.

Welcome to Autumn Splendor!

 

Perhaps it has something to do with my hair color, but every year when fall settles upon us, my soul is happy and I find genuine contentment with the world around me. The colors! Oh, the colors! Brilliant reds, decadent oranges, deep russets, glowing coppers… the hues that create the palette of fall feel like home to me, and I am at peace.

I’ll admit, there are moments of summer that I adore – the smell of freshly mown hay, the feel of thick green grass below bare feet, an ice cold root beer on a hot day, my mom’s colorful riot of blooming flowers filling the yard of my childhood home. But summer can hold only so much sway over a redhead with pale skin, devoid of any and all ability to tan, who has an ironic allergy to sunscreen. I simply wither when the mercury climbs into the 90s and beyond, and I’ve known my fair share of sunburns. No thank you!

Fall, on the other hand, is another matter entirely. The crisp, cool mornings and late evenings are invigorating. And who can resist the season’s smells? My grandmother’s apple crisp – heavenly. Cinnamon and nutmeg simmering together with apple cider – divine. But the inviting aroma of the crackling wood from a fall bonfire, now that’s the smell of the season I look forward to all year long!

There are those perfect days that come along every once in a while – the ones that you look back on and smile about for years to come. I couldn’t have been older than six or seven. I spent the day raking leaves into big piles with my grandparents in their expansive backyard on their farm. We raked and raked, and then my brothers and I jumped into piles of crunchy red and brown leaves. Later that day, we sat atop straw bales stacked in the wagon as my Grandpa’s red Farmall H chugged us back towards the woods. There, amid yellowing birch leaves and under golden orange hickory tree canopies, my dad and grandpa built a fire. Supper that night consisted of hotdogs cooked on sticks over the flames, golden brown marshmallows and apple cider.

The evening was chilly, but wrapped up in red woolen blankets and gathered around that delicious-smelling fall fire, sitting amid the fallen leaves, listening to my grandparents and parents talk and laugh, life was perfect.

Welcome, Autumn. I’ve missed you.  

In Honor of Grandparents and Patriots

This year, Grandparents’ Day falls on Patriot Day, September 11^th. Sunday will also mark the tenth anniversary of 9/11. It will be a day to remember and honor those who perished in the attacks, as well as celebrate our grandparents.

The significance of both of these important days falling on the same calendar square bears special meaning, I believe. Each year, when September 11^th rolls around, I remember exactly where I was the morning I learned of the attacks. I clearly recount turning on the radio in my car and being confused and bewildered by what I was hearing. Would there be more attacks? Who could do something like this? Was our nation at war? Was my family safe? And then came the news footage and the images. Horrifying.

The event drew to mind an event I’d only ever heard about, something that happened years before I was born. My grandparents were all of the Greatest Generation. They survived and endured through World War II. Each of them could recount where they were and what they were doing when news of the attack on Pearl Harbor came across the radio. I now knew what it was like to look on in horror at a brutal attack against my fellow countrymen and women.

Although Patriot Day endeavors to honor those who lost their lives on 9/11, the day never fails to make me take stock of my own patriotism and love for my country. Much of this I owe to my grandparents. They were a generation of people whose parents risked everything to cross the ocean to come to this land, and throughout my childhood, they painted a very clear picture to me of what it meant to be an American – a deep, undying respect for our nation, reverence for the flag our soldiers fought under through world wars, the pride felt when our country rallies together in times of crisis. Sacrifice, perseverance, and a sense of unity.

My grandmother passed away five years ago. She left behind several books of partially-used ration stamps from the 1940s. I asked her once why she kept them, and mentioned how hard it must have been to struggle to get things like sugar and shoes. Her answer was that she kept them to remember how her family could make it through any hardship, because these were sacrifices that every American was making to aid in the war effort. I always marveled at that measure of patriotism.

This year, on Sunday, September 11^th, my husband will hoist the flag on the pole at our house. I will slice apples with my kids to make a good old fashioned American apple pie, the very recipe my Grandma Mabel taught me to make, and we will share the stories with them of 9/11. We will tell them of the courage and self-sacrifice of the firefighters, police officers, paramedics and first responders who fled to the falling towers to assist their fellow Americans, and how so many of them died in doing so.

Although my grandparents and great-grandparents have all passed on, their memory reminds me of the strength and determination this country was built upon. It makes me happy to think that this Sunday I will celebrate Grandparents’ Day by remembering four people who lived through a critical part of this nation’s history, and passed along those lessons and stories. And I will celebrate Patriot Day, a day to commemorate those who lost their lives to prove that this is still an amazing country, and Americans can still pull together and endure any hardship.

And hopefully, my children will grow to know how fortunate they are to be little Americans.

Family Game Night: Inexpensive Fun for Everyone!

A while ago, my husband and I decided to treat the kids to a 3D movie, complete with a large bucket of popcorn, a 32 oz. Coke and the kids’ choice of candy. One would think a simple outing for a family of four wouldn’t be a budget breaker. There I go assuming again.

After paying for the tickets alone, it dawned on me that with the money we had just spent, we were halfway to the cost of a new Blu-Ray player. Paying for treats had me squirming. Since my husband and I are not immune to the worries of this current recession, we decided to usher in the era of Family Game Night at home. “We can make our own fun for free!” I proclaimed.

Having spent many winter nights at my grandparents’ farm with no cable television and certainly no VCR, I can shake a mean Yahtzee cup. And my older brother schooled me more than once on the financial benefits of setting up hotels on Boardwalk and Park Place (which, as I recall, he always seemed to own). My husband also grew up in a family that eagerly gathers ‘round the table for games, cards and the like. Would we discover our kids had inherited some of these genes?

The following Friday night, my husband and I popped a big bowl of popcorn with the real popcorn popper, which made the kids marvel (“I thought you had to make popcorn in the microwave, mommy. Is this how they did it in the olden days?”), and made me feel old. Then we pulled out Candy Land.

We were off to a roaring start until daddy picked the Queen Frostine card, placing him way ahead of the rest of us. This caused my four-year-old to decide that things were just not fair. I hear ya, kid – mommy never picks the good cards either.

Battleship, on the other hand, was a hit. My daughter was just as into it as my son was. While he spread his boats out across the water, she cloistered all of hers tightly together in one corner. Okay, so she’s no military strategist. “The boats like their friends to be close,” she whispered. The kids soon didn’t need our help anymore with figuring out how to call targets and placing little pegs in their grids. “This is fun!” they both agreed. Total cost of an evening of jubilant game playing around the kitchen table: $1.50 worth of popcorn. That’s recession-proof fun right there, folks!

An overall success, we have expanded our collection of board games. The kids have been known to put down the Wii remotes and ask us to play Mancala or Connect Four. I won’t say that we haven’t taken the kids to a movie since then, but we’ve gotten awfully choosy when it comes to trips to the cinema. We’ve found that there’s a bit more talking and laughing that happens on game night than if we’re sitting in a movie theater eating $8 popcorn. Imagine that!

In Celebration of Grandparents

 

In 1978, Congress passed legislation that proclaimed the first Sunday after Labor Day would be National Grandparents Day, a national holiday. The purpose of such a day was to honor these special people and to help foster children’s awareness of the love, guidance, strength and wisdom this older generation offers.

Why is it important to honor grandparents? They represent a living link between the present and the past. They are an integral connection to our heritage, family traditions, and culture. The lives they have lived and history they have witnessed serves as a font of information and wisdom. Additionally, they have a rare insight into your life and upbringing – they are the ones who raised your parents and very likely had a prominent role in your childhood as well.

Gift giving and card giving are popular ways to recognize grandparents. Some 4 million greeting cards are purchased and sent for Grandparents Day each year. Others make it a point to visit their grandparents, invite them over for a meal, or participate in a variety of activities with them. For active grandparents, attending a baseball game, movie, play, musical event or the like can be a fun way to spend time with a grandchild, old or young. For grandparents who may be housebound or in a nursing home or other care facility, simply spending time visiting them is a meaningful way to recognize Grandparents Day.

For young children, commemorating Grandparents Day can be as easy as coloring or painting a picture or creating another thoughtful art or craft project. What grandparent doesn’t love to display a grandchild’s work of art on the front of the refrigerator? Writing a poem or story about time spent with a grandparent is another special way to honor these grand people.

Spending time with grandparents is also special. Fishing, baking cookies, going for a bike ride, participating in a nature hike together… times like these are wonderful opportunities to engage in conversation. What was your grandpa’s childhood like? Where did your grandparents meet? What were grandma’s favorite activities when she was young? What do your grandparents miss most about the era during which they were born? It’s amazing how much you can know about your own grandparents and still be pleasantly surprised to find out something new.

Why not spend some time with your grandparents honoring your heritage? Is there a special cultural dish they loved as a child? Share time preparing and enjoying a special meal together. Download some memorable music from their childhoods to play while you dine. Top off the evening by hauling out some old family photo books and take a stroll down memory lane with them. The official flower of Grandparents Day is the Forget-me-not, so if your grandmother is a flower lover, pick up a special bouquet.

Whatever names they go by – grandma, grandpa, nana, papa, gran, gramps – they are a living link to your past. For many people, grandparents have played an important part in their childhoods and lives. Whether your grandparents lived just down the street and you saw them every day as a child, or if they lived miles away and your relationship was mainly via telephone, Grandparents Day is the perfect opportunity to take time out of the busy schedule to dedicate a day to the older generation in your family – the people who have watched you grow and helped you become who you are today.