We cut a tree down in our yard and you would have thought we would have less leaves, but we didn't. The leaves glowed golden yellow, fiery orange and deep ruby red. The drive into our subdivision was as beautiful as ever and that meant bags and bags of leaves. We've had kids sometimes help in the past but this year it was pretty much just us and the fur ball in the middle.


We grew three sunflowers this year and laid them out on the stumps in the back yard.  It took less than a day and they were picked clean.  The squirrels didn't get them, it was the birds. I'm sure we will have sunflowers popping up not where we would like but it was entertaining watching them clean out the heads.

He just can't do it.  He can't leave soccer.  He coached our kids and made friends on the pitch. He loved the kids even when they drove him nuts and so this year he decided to get back into it. There is sparks and glimmers of talent. There is energy, maybe not always focused. There are smiles and sometimes yawns. There are a lot of losing games, which are called learning games, because you can always learn something from a loss. There are hilarious comments and no shows but it is soccer and a game and worth it.

My last one to leave the nest. This girl is a senior. WTF? I think I have experienced every kind of emotion with this girl, from the absolute beautiful ( I want to cry I am so proud, and blessed) to the unbelievablely ugly (I am going to kill her or go insane) emotions. We tried to do some photos while at Cannon Beach but there was so much "fun" there for her that to pin her down while to lighting was good was impossible.  Noon, is not the time of day and 30 minutes isn't enough.  I get it, she only sees these kids for 1 week a year, how can we take time for photos.  So we tried again.  Still, the time was limited.  Not too long.  The lighting shown through the grey paper birches turning the leaves from yellow to gold. The logs that lay crisscross next to the trail with the bushes behind them created a perfect backdrop.  We spent maybe a half an hour and she was done.  Off we went to go our separate ways. This girl has a social calendar that is booked from the time she gets up to the time she crashes in bed at 2 am. There usually isn't time to spare.  I am sure she knows half the county and has contacts at every school.  You want to know something, she either knows it or knows who to talk to in order to find out. She could be an influencer if she wanted to be one and put forth the effort.  From cliff jumping and soccer practices and games to working as a qc in the kitchen at Bob's and taking class at Whatcom Community College, she stays busy.  I try to get her to put her activities on the calendar just to help me remember what I've said yes to and where she's going.  Half the time, I'm not sure if she's going to have dinner with us. Yes, senior year will be a busy year. Help me.

A warm sunny autumn day greeted us as we made our way to the tasting room at Bellewood Acres.  We stood and chatted as more people came into the room. I stood back people watching. who were these people who had signed up for this workshop? I was curious. Our hostesses welcomed us while ushering us into the distillery. The stainless steel tanks and tubes produced a pure vodka which we were given a taste. We then headed out doors to climb aboard the hay wagon that meandered through the orchard. The smell of apples heavy in the air. Moms and dads were calling to their kids as we passed the pumpkin patch and the corn maze.  Stephen was hard at work taking tickets at the entrance.  We waved as we passed him and continued over the creek. As we disembarked, we were greeted with an appetizer at the beginning of the short path to the fire pit and the rest of the food.  We enjoyed learning more about the orchard as we sat upon wooden folding chairs, and covered bales of hay. Polenta with sauted mushrooms, apple slices and Anytime toffee, baked pumpkins with Gruyere cheese, were some of the dishes on the menu.  Most was prepared over the fire or the coals, all of which made you want to try your hand at cooking more than oatmeal when camping.

I reach into the full basket and grab a yellow globe. Running under the water, I wash it and place it on the counter. I reach in and grab another and another until I have 6 on my counter. The crust is already in the fridge chilling. I peel each apple and then slicing them thinly until the bowl is full. I toss them with cinnamon, brown sugar, and flour.  Letting them sit while the sugar pulls out some juice, I roll out my crust saving half for the top. I coax the roundish crust over my rolling pin and gently lift it into the pie dish, cutting off the extra. Wishing I could roll a round crust. I dump the apple mixture into the bowl. Then because I love apples and caramel I drizzle caramel over the apples.  I roll out the left over pie crust, still trying to roll it out into a circle. Why didn't I just roll it square, I cut it into long fat strips and crisscross them over the apple filling. Once done, I slip it into the oven and wait, mouth watering for it to be done. It's one of my favorites.

The large park that follows the banks of the river through town is a riot of color in the fall. The leaves blanket the gravel trail and the rocky shore. Drift wood sticks pile up and deciduous trees trail their branches in the water.  I walk along the trail following the dog who is following the scents that is flooding his nose. Within minutes he has disappeared into the bushes and I can hear him as he splashes into the water. Then he bounds into view looking for me, wondering if I am following him to the river's edge. The sandy hill is a sharp steep decline to the water and I have to be careful if I don't want to end up wetter then that fur ball that just bounded into the water searching for a stick, a toy, anything. He turns and looks as if to say, well, "throw it already!"  I bring out his styrofoam "hunting" bird and chuck it into the middle of the river. He turns looking for the splash, trying to jump from spot to spot until his feet no longer touch the bottom and then with his ears floating he torpedoes towards the floating "bird". He lunges, then grabs it, turns almost completely around and paddles for all he's worth towards shore. With one eye on me and the other on the bushes lining the bank, he hauls himself out of the water. Instead of dropping it at my feet, he plays this hard to get game and carries to the bushes. Then he makes a dash towards me and whines. "Where is it? Aren't you going to throw it again? What's taking so long?" His eye implore me. Hopping up and and down whining. I march over to where he left it, picking it up he suddenly is right next to me, hopping, wagging, with his tongue hanging out. I throw it out again and the it is repeated all over again. He can't stop and rest, even when I know he's going to hurt from arthritis.  He can't just chill and wait. His energy flows, every scent, every sound, every breeze that touches his ears seems to create more energy in him.  Finally I say enough and head back to the gravel path that circumnavigates the park. He follows still full of energy. Taking in the tall meadow grass that is most of the park he does a running head first slide rolling over and over from side to side and on his back. Drying off. Once up he bounds everywhere, wanting to carry his bird, but frequently dropping it and then returning to me without it. I have to say, get your bird and then help him find it. Once around the park that is about 3/4 mile we head back to the vehicle and head home. He collapses as soon as we get into the house and I know I'm going to need to give him a pill for his aches.  He settles at my feet and I pull the card out of my camera and process photos. Thinking of all the wonderful moments, the small little things that have changed within the park and how lucky I am to be able to notice it, even if I backed into a car behind me on my birthday, trying to leave the park.

 "Parents you may come in to the swearing in ceremony." The three recruits from various branches stand facing away from us.  They don't turn around. Their backs are straight, heads up and a certain amount of confidence radiates off these boys that shuffled into the room only twenty minutes ago. An army officer comes in, calling for attention and they immediately change their stance. As parents we see a change already in them. We almost don't know what to do. Some suggestions are given to us and we fumble around but the recruits don't move. They swear or giver their affirmation to uphold the constitution of the United States and affirm that they understand what they are about to do. The whole things takes maybe 5 minutes. We clap uncertainly and take photos.  They are dismissed  to be with us but are required in the next room for more signings. We can see them later at the hotel before leaving them. Job now crossed the line from reservist to active duty and has stepped into a new life leaving us behind.

"Raise your right hand and repeast after me. I do solemnly swear...."