This post is in words, but the words will hardly do justice. Not that the place is visually stunning. Don't get me wrong. It was beautiful country. But it is just the kind of place that needs to be seen, smelled and tasted.
Saturday morning, we, as Elise said, put the city in our rearview mirror. We took a long, windy road through the country called Snickersville Pike. Sam fell asleep. There were one-land bridges along the way that really were only one lane. Our car barely fit through them. And low walls of stacked stone lined both sides of the road. Civil war-era barns and silos dotted the hills. Oak branches made a tree tunnel for us to wind through. We drive by a country store. Three old men were perched on the wooden porch in front. Too perfect.
We arrived mid-morning. The heat was just starting to settle in. We first saw ostriches, then chickens and bunny rabbits. Sam and Elise tried bouncing on a giant, inflatible dome, but the plastic was already too hot from the day's heat. Sam sat on tractors both real and frabricated and both boys played in a sand box made from dried corn kernals. Pete sat on his first tractor (albeit, tiny as it was).
We ate lunch and had hand-cranked peach ice cream. Sam rode solo on the cow train ("Mooooo!" Elise and I yelled as the train pulled away, "Not moooooove!" (quoted from a Thomas the Train book we had recently borrowed from the library). I choked up as he pulled away by himself. "I can't imagine what it's going to be like when he goes off to college," I told Elise. A guy on an electric acoustic started twanging from a stage in the background.
The highlight of the day, by far, was riding the hay ride to the peach orchard. There, we picked a basket full of peaches (more than 4 lbs worth!). Everyone helped. Even Pete. We climbed back on the hay ride and rode back to our car. Weighed and paid for our peaches. Elise is going to make a peach cobbler this week, a Turbeville family speciality.
I, personally, can't wait.
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