Autumn is here. Sort of. Where I live it's great weather for late August/early September, but for crissakes it's more than halfway through October already! To enjoy true autumn we have inadvertently started a tradition of going up to visit my parents, who live in a picturesque, mountainous region in the northeast. Having been raised in a house only surrounded by other houses, I am enjoying this tradition quite a bit - particularly because it is still within easy reach of a major metropolitan center.
A bit of a travelogue, if you will:
Friday night at the Metropolitan Opera House. We saw a beautiful performance of Madama Butterfly, which many people have already heard me gush about. Although cameras are technically not permitted inside, plenty of people were taking photos. How can you not when you're dressed in your finery? It is arguable that the performing arts and the appreciation thereof are not to this standard down in Baltimore. But I won't argue. I saw beautiful ladies, dapper men, and more pointy-toed high heels than I have seen outside of a shoe store.
After the performance my father got a bit camera-happy, as he is wont to do. I tried to capture motion on the plaza, but of course a point and shoot can only do so much in low light conditions. Trav is walking down the center (quite dapper himself) and some dude/tte is passing through as a shadowy blob on the left.
You have never properly enjoyed Korean food if you haven't had it after 1 AM. Down in Baltimore, all-night Korean places are the norm but I have no idea if this is just a local practice or not. My mother finds this incredibly amusing, and I found it a bit surreal (but no less fun!) to be enjoying 20 dishes and hot barley tea with my parents until 2 AM. While I take photos of everything (including the uniquely Korean paper-wrapped oversized spoons), Trav imitates my dislike of being photographed.
The next day the weather was cool and bright. We packed our (real) cameras in preparation for a nature hike. Zachary has always had a strange affinity for open car trunks. He sees one, he jumps in. PETA has no reason to come after me, as I have never closed him in one.
The hike through the Audubon Nature Preserve was as tame as I could have imagined a hike to be. The last placed we had hiked was in Montana where things were a bit different. I kept looking for something interesting and falling a little short. But I was prepared, damnit!! I had every piece of equipment primed and ready to roll. Including Smuggy.
Trav was slightly more enthusiastic about the forest than I was. In fact, he seemed to see quite a few opportunities. I wondered if maybe I needed my eyes checked. However he wore his cap with staunch pride and I am embarrassed to admit that seeing a tall guy in a red hat circulating near me with camera gear had a rather Pavlovian calming effect.
We followed the river for a while, trying this and that. Nothing I did seemed to work but I wasn't too pressed. The day was about the journey, not the reward. While the morning had been bright and sunny, the afternoon was turning overcast. But there were lots of little brown frogs hopping between the rocks. With some gentle coaxing we got this little one to sit on a slightly more presentable surface.
I think we were both a little scared of what the other would do, but I think the froggy won that day because he was brave enough to look me right in the eye. They say size doesn't matter, but try telling that to all the tiny creatures of the universe when giants stick cameras in their faces.
After the hike it was time for some tea. A lovely little bookstore/cafe in Bernardsville hit the right spot. I love an afternoon of lugging equipment, then unwinding with hot yerba mate whilst chimping.
On the way back to the house I had an idea, inspired by a friend who just seems to turn the very idea of normalcy inside-out. Of course I wasn't going to risk using my real camera for this trick! (yet)
This was just practice for some TBD time in the future when we're in a more interesting car with more interesting weather and more interesting scenery winding through on a more interesting road. It's absolutely amazing how slippery the shutter button gets when your palms are sweating in fear.
That night our friend Ryan invited us to his place since we were in his neck of the woods. No half-sunk ships this time: just pure unadulterated smoked ham with apples and sweet honey mustard glaze. There were a lot of people stuffed into his beautiful backyard, so much that I gave up and hid in the corner. I fail! The running joke is that I have a year to get a scrip for Xanax, when I will have to face 70-odd strangers at once...
The grand finale of the weekend: pumpkin shooting. We seemed to have started doing this each year, and why should I mind? Fresh cakey doughnuts rich and yeasty on the tongue, tangy hot apple cider, the scent and growl of the trucks pulling hayrides, and shouts of people both young and old as they push the giant slingshots to their utmost limits!
Last year we had fun, but no luck. This year Trav was determined to do better.
This one isn't mine of course, but pumpkin slingshots are almost more fun as a spectator sport because you don't have to train your grip.
Floop! Can you spot the flying orange squash?
Apparently if your softball-sized pumpkin hits the edge of the target, explodes in a stringy mess and deposits most of the seeds inside the cone, it still counts! The pulp was flying with enough force to swirl the other winning pumpkins inside like a whirlwind.
Thankfully Trav did not pick the top-shelf, prize-winning enormo-pumpkin. This one was big enough. While the camera usually adds 10 pounds, it looks as though pumpkins might actually subtract 20.
And that is autumn for me.
*uncramps fingers*
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