A Picking We Will Go

You know all those Atlanta yuppies who pile their kids in their SUV on a sunny fall day and drive up to the mountains to connect with a simpler, more country way of life? 

That's us.   

A few weeks ago we had a rare Sunday with no plans, and well I can't have that, so we headed up to Ellijay for the afternoon for a little apple picking and fall fun. 

Last time we went apple picking was 2 years ago before Henry came along. (Yeah this time last year with a 3-day old, for whatever reason, we were not riding around farms in wagons.) Last time we went to the farm that came highly recommended. There were inflatable jumpies, and porta-potties, and pig races, and pie-eating contests, and pony rides...and people. Oh the people. As we approached this time and saw the line of cars draw out for a mile, I turned to Ben and pleaded to find somewhere less...people-y. 

Turned the car around a mile or two and found R&A Apple Orchards. A family run apple orchard that had been in operation since shortly after WWII. This was more like it. Lunch, apple picking, pumpkins, homemade pies and fudge, and a wagon ride and orchard tour where our guide was the 12-year old granddaughter of the owner who knew EVERYTHING about apples. 

"A picking we will go! A picking we will go!"

It was a most gorgeous Georgia fall day. 

"Hey! Is this heaven?" 

"No...it's Ellijay." 

Henry wasn't about to be left out of the fun. 

Daddy showed him where applesauce comes from. 

Hey folks, sorry, gotta run. 

Mom and her boys. 

A rare foursome shot. 

Did I mention it was a most glorious Georgia fall day? 

Thank you Futch Family. See you again.
Same time next year. 

Henry Turns 365 Days Old!

I know. I did it again. Got distracted, busy, overwhelmed with daily lists, and confused in thinking that things like laundry and organizing the closet were more important than documenting and sharing the milestones in The Browning Family. But I am awake from my coma for a spell and ready to share a very big occasion we were recently blessed to celebrate with family and friends. 

Sweet baby Henry is 1! 

365 days have never gone so fast. Just yesterday I was pregnant and now we have a toddler. Just like that. 

And a wonderful toddler at that. 

Sweet and happy. Silly and funny. 

Physical, yet deliberate. Somewhat attached, yet adventurous and curious. 

He's our joy boy. 

And everyone wanted to celebrate this joy with us! Uncle Ted and Aunt Randle came for a rare and wonderful visit to help celebrate the big day. And we are so glad they did. It would not have been the same without them. We were so happy to be able to share a few days together, catching up, talking and playing. 

Matty saw to it there was plenty of playing. He and Uncle Ted invented something called "Swing Soccer." But having witnessed this, and now taken part myself, it's more like "Throw That Ball Right at My Moving Foot Soccer." Matty swings and laughs, you run around for the ball. The kid is truly a genius. 

Even more friends and family came around to sing Happy Birthday to Henry the afternoon of his party, including Mama P, Little Mimi, Amanda, Waylon...

...Cousin Ansley...

...Bop and Lovey...

...Sullivan...

...Katelyn...

...and Ryan!

It was a special party. Small and low-key but perfectly sweet just like the birthday boy himself! I tried to do this party a tad differently than my usual routine and not give myself a stroke over the planning details. And it worked. I learned it's more fun pretty much throwing it together in the last week or two. We're both growing up.

Mommy loves her birthday boy.

Pre-smashed cakes and decorations.

"Hoo is turning 1?"

Finally it was time for the big moment!
"I want cake! I want cake!"

"They're singing to me!?"

Daddy and Matty help Henry start digging in.

"Henry got icing on my shirt!"

"This stuff is interesting."

"Matty doesn't seem to approve of my approach."

Proper 1st birthday smash cake form.

"Just how blue do I have to get before she ends this madness?"

For those of you who like this sort of thing, here's a little something I like to call "Before."

And "After."

"Before."

And "After."

After the dust, tissues, bow and wrapping paper settled (if not the cake) Henry enjoyed a post party bottle and snuggle with Lovey.

Happy 1st Birthday Sweet Henry. 

You are loved.

Farmtastic Day

Matthew and I hopped in the car and casually headed to a classmate's birthday party one perfect autumn Sunday afternoon. Almost an hour later we arrived at The Art Barn. I had feared most of the drive I was certainly heading in the wrong direction; I was unprepared for how far our destination was. But it turns out it was more than simply "miles" away, and it was the perfect little getaway for the day. 

Surrounded by donkeys, sheep, pigs, chickens, bunnies, funky metal yard art and a clear Carolina blue sky we settled in for a good time. The kids had a blast brushing the donkeys, holding the bunnies, chicks and the eggs, talking to Pickles the Pig, and learning about the animals and muscadine grapes. And what trip to the farm would be complete without a tractor ride. 

After much fun near the Barn, it was time for the Art. The birthday girl wanted to paint a chicken so all the kids painted and laughed at the picnic tables under the shade of an arbor. Much more than a birthday party, this was just an all around Farmtastic Day! 

The kids learned never to stand behind a donkey. 

Matthew carefully holds a will-be baby chick.

Learning about muscadine grapes. 

Matthew and Caroline, the birthday girl. 

Thanks for coming. 

Now go. 

Red Barn, Blue Bird

Anyone who has ever lost someone they loved wonders. 

Where do they go? 

What do they do? 

Can they still hear me? 

Do they still see me? 

You want to believe, though they were robbed of their life, as a trade-off they were given a celestial railway pass which ushers them between worlds at their will.  

Or at your need. 

Your loved one leaves a space. 

And to cope one fills it with questions and suppositions. 

I've surely done it. Even if just for fun. 

I know I have sought my mother's presence on Earth since she left it. 

One time I felt it. 

When very soon after Mom died, my not even two-year old boy swatted at my face one hurried morning before work. Emotionally raw and tired, my heart wanted to cry, but it also understood he was just a baby. I sighed back the unexpected hurt in that moment, knowing the sweetheart meant nothing. And I'll never forget what he said next. 

"Mimi say no hit Mommy."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. And he and I talked. She had told him she was sorry she "fell down." (At the time anyone sick or hurt to Matthew "fell down.") Her words through my son's angelic voice gave me something I'd need down the road. 

 I had my moment to take with me. And in spite of my quest, I've not had one since. 

Aunt Mimi says Momma sends her blue birds. An avid nature lover Aunt Mimi is very familiar with who flocks to her yard. She says she never had blue birds until mother died. She also says Momma sends her one before I come to her house. I've witnessed it myself, and am tickled at the notion. 

I never see blue birds. 

This weekend a friend of mine and I were recharging our new mommy batteries in Highlands. On our way down the mountain I stopped to photograph a gorgeous old barn I've always wanted to capture. I hopped out a mere minute. The shutter clicked once and there she was. 

Looking right at me. 

A blue bird in Highlands.

Noteworthy? 

Probably not. 

But as I said. 

One wonders.