the story and the backstory {apple picking}

I've begun to check-mark off my fall pleasures.  Oh how good it feels to be intentional in embracing and experiencing this season I so love.

the story
This past weekend we spent time apple-picking.  This yearly tradition helps us welcome fall.  We load up our cloth bags with apples and apples and more apples, seeking out our favorite varieties, and trying some new ones.  Almost smelling the apple crisp that will surely be made later.

This year we were able to pick grapes at the farm too.  Filling boxes with fragrant bunches.  Even though it was an unseasonably warm hot day, we still got mud covered boots and shoes as we trekked between aisles of vines.

Glorious, I tell you.  And to think it almost didn't happen.

the backstory
Begins much earlier in the week, when I realized that we had an open Saturday.  I marked on the calendar in bold letters with squiggly lines around them:  APPLE PICKING!

What fun to plan ahead and know that we would embark on our annual trip to the apple farm.  Oh, and the weather was supposed to be glorious too, such a reprieve after days upon days of rain.  So, hey, why don't I check-mark off another pleasure and take portraits of the kids.  At. The. Apple. Farm.

So brilliant of me, I thought.  I even remembered to prepare the kids by telling them a couple days before that I would be picking out special clothes for them to wear.  I told them because I know and appreciate that they each have their own particular style and like to wear what they like to wear.  Don't we all?

The entire family woke up happy and excited.  Clothes washed and ready, laid out for dressing. A perfect sundress for Lovey featuring, of all things, fall apples.  The boys shirts just right too.

Okay.  Put on some rain boots, a couple bows, and we would be out the door taking darling portraits in no time.

But then came time to actually get dressed.  In the actual clothes I had chosen.

They were not happy.  I was not happy.

Tantrums and tears ensued.  And not just by the kids.

What to do?  Somehow, I let it go.  Albeit very grudgingly at first.  But then my husband showed me the apple Buddy made as soon as he had woken up -- he was that excited to go apple picking that day.  To him, the day was about the apple picking.  The family tradition of being together, breathing fresh air,  anticipating the smell of warm apple crisp that would soon be baked.  When had I lost sight of that?  Because I certainly had.  It makes me wonder about other times I loose sight of the really important matters of mothering.

Somehow, we salvaged the day.  Helped by plentiful "I'm sorrys" and hugs and all wearing whatever clothes we wanted to.  We headed out, a bit later than planned, but all together.

Honey asked if I was taking my camera.

"Of course."

And I captured some portraits I think are pretty perfect.  Not because I picked out any apple-themed dress or cute shirts.  But because my children were being themselves.  As for me, their mama, I learned a bit more about myself that day too.