Oh, the things that we could do...

As usual, we slept in late, Sunday morning, then, lounged around the house until football came on, enjoying some beverages and snacks as we watched the games.  We had a late supper on the couch, taking in the late game, then, retired early as it looked like a blowout.

In an alternate reality, we might have taken the kids out to Wolcott Mill for the fall festivities, breakfasting on cider and doughnuts, then warming up in a bounce house.

In that situation, we likely would have taken a horse-drawn carriage out to the pumpkin patch, making an aside to solve the corn maze – no doubt, it would only have taken us 15 minutes through a maze that took the typical tracker, an hour (with the caveat that a very well-apprised 10 year old girl largely led the way).

We would have made it through even faster if not for someone’s affinity for stunning Silenes, most certainly, a lovely latifolia.

The point, of course, for that sort of trip, would have been to collect an assortment of pumpkins.  With no doubt, Will would have gleefully selected the largest in near-sight, while Ari would pooh-pooh the process, sarcastically remarking that she would take a rotten one – Jared glibly egging her on, picking up several and commenting, “Here, Ari:  This is a good one for you!”  And she would reply, dryly, “Ha.  Ha.”

Begrudgingly, but, ultimately gladly, the two older ones would come around and grab a squash of the own – probably making their poor father carry the lot, while making inappropriate asides.

That would have brought half-hearted and bemused admonition, and the puns would indubitably continue to fly – after the tractor ride back as we passed the gobbling turkey and gregarious goose that would have had enough his chatter.

There would have been a pumpkin smashing contest, amusement and adoration for the fluffy chickens, surreptitious black walnut collection and an ill-advised trip through a rather benign haunted barn that was yet too terrifying for our tender souled five year old.  He surely would have used that as leverage to take another spin on the bounce house, and, a few quick games of twister on an inflatable platform which would have been outrageously amusing, but ruefully unfilmed.

 

Some effort would have to have been expended to extract the child from such fun, but the promise of food for a hungry belly at well after noon, would likely, eventually, convince him.  We would probably have feasted at some barely passable chain restaurant with really good salsa (everything else – too salty), and reflected that we were only a stone’s throw from Stoney Creek!

On the way there, one of us would remark that the talking crow was no longer, and another would make a vague reference to reading something about a raccoon getting into the enclosure.  We’d arrive, pleased to discover we were both wrong, but the owl had been released back to the wilds, while I’d probably goad the crow by squawking, “I wanna walk!”  Annoyed children would remind me, he says, “I wanna fly.”  ...Because they have no sense of humor.

There would be a few delightful yellow flowers, still, this time of year:  Some sort of astaracceea, a lily – the kids would head on to the nature center alone, aggravated by the delays.

Inside, Ari would remark that she befriended a snake on the previous visit but that it could, this time, not be located.  Jared and Will would seek out and admire all the turtles and we’d all be a bit squeamish by the hissing cockroaches, then, coalesce at the bird-watching couch.

I’d resist the urge to tell the young scouts that were present what bird they were frantically trying to identify using a Stan Tekiela special – however, I would pull up the Nuthatch on the kiosk to their right, that had a list of the most commonly seen birds at the feeder.  Look to your right, fellas…  One of them eventually would select a random bird and declare it identified, quickly closing the book.  Tweet, tweet… To your right, guys...  It was actually not an emu.

We’d admire the various taxidermied critters before heading to the creek overlook, where many of us would experience hints of vertigo and ask Will to stop climbing up the rails and bouncing the platform into a nice swaying motion!  Once things settled down, we’d head down toward the trails – before an emergency bathroom break was declared, and the whole trek would be scuttled, momentum abutted.

It would be a good thing, too, because once the little guy loses his legs, things can turn a little wacky.

I have no idea what would be going on at this point, but it would happen repeatedly.

That’s what we could have done, but it sounds awfully exhausting, and Will probably would have stolen my phone and made a series of cute but redundant, somewhat humorous videos.