Photo Journal | I want to see you dance again, because I'm still in love with you on this harvest moon

The day after Halloween, DJ's farm stand closed for the season. So, perhaps, before we all become too inundated with Christmas, I should post photos of some of the Autumnal things we did last month. Though not a proper pumpkin patch (the pumpkins don't grow out of the ground here), that's what we call DJ's in the month of October. We pass the farm stand on our way to and from Cary, and for the whole month squealed every time we caught sight of all that orange. Mads got to sit up in the antique tractor; he somehow instinctively knew to jiggle at the joysticks at his feet. I'd been thinking to myself, "How am I ever going to get him out of that tractor?" imagining removing him by force and the fit that would ensue, putting a damper on the whole event. But, when the shiny, green, new tractor pulled in to move around crates of pumpkins, Mads watched it for a moment then exclaimed, "Okay. I drive that one," and voluntarily climbed down from the antique.

I was so excited for this damn Harvest Festival. I requested the day off months in advance and had all kinds of visions, informed by Disney Channel original movies probably, of eating caramel apples and carving pumpkins and I don't even know what else. The day's disappointments started when I learned early in the morning as I re-perused the Parks & Recreation event guide that the Halloween dance the town was hosting, the thing I was most excited about and had most pumped Mads up for, was only for kids ages 5-12. Not only would Mads not be able to attend, but he wouldn't be able to attend for another three years. Color me bummed. The day was hot, the two-seat wagon I was carting the toddlers around in was heavy and cumbersome, and the festival didn't seem all that autumnal to me. It just seemed like a random gathering of people and vendors around a bouncy castle. I'm glad we went, if only because the teacher of one of the dance troops performing taught a Ghostbusters dance to kids in the audience who wanted to participate. Mads declined, but we couldn't have stopped Ella if we tried.

"Harvest Moon," Neil Young

Madmartigan, 2 Years Old | I look just like Buddy Holly

About Mads, 2 Years and 3 Months Old:

• Remember how I said Mads was saying "I love you" ("I wub you") with some coaxing? Now he says it without any coaxing at all. This is one of those milestones, like when he first smiled or when he first laughed, that I have been waiting for a long time, and I could write a lot of treacly mush about this, but I'll just leave it at this: he says, "I wub you," and sometimes, "I wub you, too."
• He walks around the house kissing lady shaped things, like the witch on my bedside table or the cowgirl pictured on a tile necklace I sometimes wear.
• Martigan says, "I cited!" ["I'm excited!"]
• On the ride to work one morning, I point out the trees to Mads and ask, "Aren't they pretty?" He answers, "I eat trees!"
• The first piece of candy he chose from his Trick-or-Treat stash was a little package of sweet tarts.
• Mads loves rolling his cars and trucks down a little makeshift ramp in the living room. 
• Mads requests that Lunchbox come trick-or-treating with us next year. When asked what his costume should be, Mads says he should wear a butt on his butt.
• This is a new development, and so it keeps surprising me that Mads is tall enough to reach up and take things off the kitchen counter--like his trick-or-treat bucket, or the gigantic greasy bag of french fries from Five Guys.
• He eats like his dad, very slowly, very carefully, particularly when he's eating something he really loves. He's great at savoring his food, closing his eyes all dreamily as he chews. He says, "Yum!" "I like this!" "That's good!" And when Grandma gave him a little espresso cup full of farm custard, he took a sip and exclaimed, "That's choc-late!"
• Martigan most often gets in trouble for either kicking or throwing things. To remedy this, Grandma suggested, wisely, that we buy him some balls for kicking and throwing that he can play with outside.
• Mads' most commonly asked questions are "What are you doing?" and "Where you going?"
• Mads loves pushing those mini "shopper-in-training" carts at the grocery store and announcing to all he is doing so.
• Mads has started pretending--that the laundry basket is a boat, that his mostly eaten half of toast is a shoe running, that his toy trains and trucks talk to each other, and that everything, in the end, flies up to the sky.
• Mads is using a big boy cup, with some success (and also some un-success). 
• Mads says, "That's cool."
• His favorite shows/movies this month were: Thomas & Friends, Corpse Bride, Robin Hood
• His favorite books this month were: Chicken Cheeks, Grandfather Twilight, Slinky Malinki, Where is the Green Sheep?

"Buddy Holly," Weezer

Photo Journal | 365 | and it's you I hear, so loud and clear

001/365 - 31 October 2015, Witch's New Year, Saturday | Only about a third of the houses in my Grandma's neighborhood had lights on for trick-or-treaters. I wanted to hug every person with a jack-o-lantern lit on the porch, a skeleton in a bush, every person who answered the door and let my toddlers grab one-too-many pieces of candy out of a bowl. Bless those generous, fun-loving souls.

002/365 - 1 November 2015, Day of the Dead, Day off, Sunday | After a couple days of being sick (pukey, achey, feverish, weak), Wolfman and I were both craving restorative red meat and grease, really good burgers. Five Guys sounded amazing, but my stomach took a couple hours to make up its mind about the intelligence of that decision. Burger Trip, indeed.

003/365 - 2 November 2015, Monday | When I can, I park the car (we call her Brunhilde) under trees. I have this feeling that being close to trees is good for Brunhilde, that the trees whisper a little love to her as she waits, that they lend their life force to her aching old bones (parts). Here is the tree I park next to when I drive myself to work; I love the way its leaves look this autumn, after night as fallen, with a street light shining down on it.

004/365 - 3 November 2015, Tuesday | I'd forgotten after years of sedentary office jobs just how labor intensive retail work can be. These two mannequins are tough broads to dress; their arms are reluctant to leave their sockets, and then a little more reluctant to return once clothed. I worked up a sweat. Usually, I leave the two mannequins in our front window for April to dress, mostly because I know she enjoys it. But, they'd been dressed in black for a few weeks, and I couldn't help switching things up with Easter egg pastels, a little unorthodox for Autumn, but, I think, a lovely way to break the rules.

005/365 - 4 November 2015, Wednesday | A rainy few days, and we've got mushrooms growing on the wooden boarders of our hedges. These, I believe, are Jack O' Lantern mushrooms (Omphalotus illudens), pretty appropriate for this time of year and this place of residence. Upon researching this mushroom, I came across this line by Michael Kuo on Mushroom Expert (dot com), "The Jack O'Lantern is the focus of the largest and most insidious conspiracy in the mycological world." To find out of what conspiracy he writes (and I so recommend you do), read the article; it's a hoot.

006/365 - 5 November 2015, Thursday | Among my favorite things about living in this house for the past few years has been these early morning fogs, rolling in and settling for about an hour as the sun rises, cloaking trees and our modest brick house. The tree in the foreground of the picture is one for which my father-in-law, Bob, has expressed great pity. It's always first to lose its leaves in Autumn and last to regrow them in Spring. I love that one bough of it pointing out toward the drive way, though; his entire life thus far, I have been picking Mads up and sitting him on that limb, my hands holding him steady while he touches the bark and looks around him and delights.

007/365 - 6 November 2015, Day Off, Friday | I took a lot of photos this day, but this is my favorite--not necessarily my best shot of the day, but my favorite. I imagine one day when he is a man, a woman might snap a photo to mirror this one--the boots, the way his hip is cocked, that serious, grumpy face.

"Shiver," Coldplay

#ThankfulThursday | I was born to use my eyes, dream with the sun and the skies

I Am Grateful:

• to Grandma, for always being so thoughtful, so generous, for not forgetting my husband's birthday, for buying Mads a jacket, two coats, and four pairs of shoes for the upcoming cold months.
• to Grandpa, for taking requests from us for crock pot meals he can make us.
• to Bob, for the New Braunfel ham Wolfman found waiting for him on the front porch for his birthday.
• for the massive drop off of clothes I inspected early in the month at work, though much of it was declined--a drop off full of obviously thrifted, vintage clothes from the 80s and early 90s, the pieces themselves delightful, some nostalgia-inducing, but also for the inspiration they sparked in me, for the reminder of how fun and creative the thrifting of one's wardrobe can be, the endeavor of finding hidden possibility in outdated, discarded garments; I am grateful, also, for the timeliness of this drop off, which came just at a time when I was feeling a little uninspired and lazy in regards to my own wardrobe and the curating thereof.
• for simple conversation with co-workers, about food, babies, local events, all sorts of other things and the soothing feeling of normalcy it produced in me, my social anxieties forgotten.
• for the warmth and firmness of my husband's hand resting on my thigh.
• to every person for whom taking down decorations is much more difficult a task than putting them up; I will never mind seeing evidence of Halloween or Christmas weeks after the fact.
• for the people who upload old B-horror movies, in their entirety, onto Youtube.
• for the adorable young man behind the counter at Five Guys who gave us an extra scoop of french fries and smiled so sweetly when he handed over that greasy paper bag.
• for the dirty bottoms of Martigan's once-white socks.
• to Wolfman when he rocks Mads to sleep, so much gentler a method for getting Mads to sleep than anything I've come up with.
• for the joy of wearing new (or, at least, new to me) clothes.
• for the satisfying womping sound the air conditioner makes at work when it turns on.
• for Jared and Mads waiting at the window for me when I get home from work, tapping on it in greeting.
• for Laika.
• for pizza delivery.
• for the "unfollow" feature on Facebook.
• for Nick Drake at bedtime.

"I Was Made to Love Magic," Nick Drake

Photo Journal | Autumn reached for her golden crown

Of our first autumn farm visit last year, I will always remember Ella in her monster costume and Mads pointing at the goats and calling them "dada" (dog/dad). Of this year, I will remember slipping and sliding through a mud-slick corn maze, with Mads on one hip and my warty witchy pumpkin on the other, my sister and grandma, not the most athletic or outdoorsy of women, grumbling ahead and behind me respectively (Sierra, like me, with a toddler monkey-clinging to her). It's funny in retrospect, of course, but I nearly ruined the moccasins Jared made me, Mads did fall in the stinky-compost mud the moment he ventured to walk, and popping out of the corn maze, finally, only to have our relief replaced by the sinking realization that we'd come out the wrong side and the hay cart was nowhere in sight, well... The things that Mads and Ella loved most about this year's farm trip were simple--running through and climbing on top of hay bales, sinking down into a cool corn crib (Mads particularly loved being buried in the corn; he smiled all dreamily like the hedonist he is). It didn't seem to matter to the kids that they were surrounded by dozens of parents with dozens of cameras. Kids do what kids do.

"Time of No Reply," Nick Drake