A lovely Saturday

The last time I spoke to Race he was headed south with our smaller, "more sensible" car, pack-jammed with 16 year old Boy Scouts, with the radio blasting tunes from one kids ipod. They were on their way to camp for the weekend and tackle a ropes course. We yelled our good-byes over the blarring music. But....he loves that stuff, and getting to spend time with Austin and his friends is one of his favorite things to do.

Savannah, Jackson and I had a lovely Saturday! After we spiffed up the house a little bit, we headed out for the afternoon.

Our first stop was the mill. Just a few miles away we have an old, water grinding mill that still sells everything from feed, to chickens, to some local produce, to freshly ground flour and grits. We pass by the field of cows and pull up to the front porch, where I have to wait for the bloodhound to lazily move out of his cool place in the dirt so that I can park. The kids and I have always loved this place. We've been coming here since they were just little. And no matter how long we've been gone, the owner and his daughter always know us by name and remember what we were doing the last time that they saw us. After a bit of, "Y'all still livin' in the same place?" and "So how's your mama and daddy?" and "Lawd those kids are about grown aren't they?" I got some colorful gords, some indian corn and a huge bag of sunflower seeds for our feeders. The resident peacock had decided to make itself at home in the back of a parked pick-up truck and was yelling loudly at the bloodhound who had decided to trifle with it. The owner yelled for his grandson, who is about 13 and told him to "Go and fetch this nice lady 2 bales of straw and load it for her". Which he did. Right after he shoved the crawdad into his pocket that he had just caught out of the creek around back. We said our thank-you's and good-byes and headed on.

We turned toward the mountain range and drove down the long, winding road that leads straight to the Blue Ridge Parkway. The leaves have begun to turn, so the drive was spectacularly bright with the sun showing through the bright yellow and orange leaves. As you ascend the last hill before our turn, the vast, rolling apple orchard stretches out in front of you, with the mountains rising directly behind it, striking a brilliant picture. We pass the pumpkin patch and the goats and the rabbits to pull up to the old barn and packing house. Inside, there are crates and crates of apples to choose from. The shelves are stocked with fresh apple butter and various jams and jellies.
The man behind the little makeshift counter knows us by name because we have been coming out here since Race and I were first married. Our kids have hauled many a pumpkin out of that patch!
We took our time and wandered around the barn and then the farm itself. We got bags filled to the brim with fresh apples, pumpkins, jars of apple butter, and of course, a jug of apple cider. We each got a warm, homemade donut as we said good bye and headed back to the car.

There is something so comforting in these places that never change. These places that time forgot. Places that still don't take credit cards, but will always take your check without asking you for an i.d. or even a phone number. Where your receipt is written out by hand and added with a calculator. Where they always welcome you back and are so glad to see you.

From there we drove into town and hit the bookstore and Starbucks before coming back home.
We enjoyed the rest of the evening doing some fall decorating and tidying up outside, before coming in to have a bowl of homemade vegetable beef soup.

I plan to end my day by starting my new book "The Art of the Public Grovel" by Susan Wise Bauer.

So. There you have it. A truly lovely Saturday.

Cheers!
Melissa