This weekend we took the kids to a "pumpkin farm" to pick out pumpkins and get in on the fall experience: manure, gourds, animals, hay, hayrides, being cold, rotting pumpkins. You know: fall.
Pumpkin Hill has nothing on the Avila Barn. I won't count the longer hay ride in the pro column for Pumpkin Hill; 40 minutes is an unsuitably long hayride.
But the real story is another family sighted at Pumpkin Hill. A middle-aged woman and her mother had brought a toddler to select a pumpkin. I presume the child was adopted because his ostensible mother was white like the moon and the child was dark like fine chocolate. This isn't, by itself, notable to me in any way. However, this is the South and Mom was controlling the child by keeping him on a leash.
They clearly didn't pick up on the subtext.
1 comment:
Was that 40 minutes round trip?
Also, my word verification to submit this comment is "culaaxed," which sounds like some '80s word to describe being hip and chilled out at the same time.
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