Chasing fall + other thoughts from Woodstock.

I have crispy leaves in various places all over my house, a mottled red and green one on the island next to the candle, a few in my right jacket pocket, a whole branch stuck in a shot glass of water next to the soap dish. Fall gifts from the boys. After a storm, we wondered if the green leaves on the fallen branch would continue turning if the branch was no longer on the tree. Turns out, they do not. Meanwhile, our back deck is still scattered with seashells from the summer’s bounty, and sticks and rocks from all over New England are always around. It seems we’ve been chasing fall, or fall has been chasing us, and while the season that comes after always brings me a bit of trepidation, this fall has been spectacular. The best yet? I don’t know. I feel like I say that every year, every Christmas, every everything, and maybe it’s not the time itself, but rather my own sense of knowing, whatever that means. Knowing that our time here is short, that we’re all just bumping into each other trying to figure out our footing, often stepping on each other’s feet, and that all along the earth is just trying to say look up! here I am! look at me! I think we’d step on each other’s feet less if we would just listen, and look up more. A few weeks ago, we went to Woodstock. After I realized this summer that it’s only two hours away, it seemed crazy to not go and see it, oh, at least once in every season. You know those places that have you driving through them nodding contentedly to yourself like yes, yes, this is a nice place, I like it here, I see why people like it here. That’s Woodstock. Woodstock, and a lot of other places, I guess. I like a lot of places, okay? Our dear friends Rachael and Joe and their four girls moved there from Boston last year. They swapped tight city living for a sprawling Vermont oasis full of imagination, neatly stacked log piles, and rooms to spare. The Hunts have been lucky enough to fill them–twice. Rachael and I were both pregnant with our first at the same time; Parker and Lux are something like ten days apart, and playdates through the years have kept it such that after a few minutes of awkward shuffling, they’re in step with one another and we don’t see them, or any of the kids, the entire time we’re visiting. (Timely–Rachael’s post on Christmas in Boston is a favorite, and that season is coming.) Always one with a great tip, Rachael suggested Abracadabra Coffee and it’s worth a stop if you like good coffee, good views, and good tacos (if the taco truck is out front, anyway, which I don’t think happens every time they’re open). This particular Sunday morning they had a pop up with Stitchdown Farm, which made sense when I learned it later, because the flowers on each table were so good. This good at coffee and flower arranging? You for real? I was glad to know the flowers were outsourced; otherwise it was a ‘and what am I doing with my life anyway?’ moment. Kids got Belgian waffles, except for Parker who opted for a taco with us. And then the cool morning and lack of sturdy jackets demanded a little PE. Jumping jacks and races to keep them cozy. Anders is in a real noncompliant I do what I want for pictures phase now. No doubt you’ll see this over the next several months. Steve spent the better part of an hour in that bookstore behind me while I corralled the kids. Some of you asked me what the bookstore was called after seeing their dreamy children’s selection on IG stories, and I said, “I’m not sure, but it’s next to Abracadabra!” Well, now that I’m looking at this picture, I’ve learned it has a name after all, and that name is Pleasant Street Bookstore. We talk about fall like it’s fleeting, and while there is some truth to that, if you’re willing to drive two hours max, you’ll extend your fall by weeks. It arrives in some places in Vermont as early as the first week in October, and where I am, we’re in it now. You can have your fall the whole month long with just a set of car keys and a willing spirit. It was Steve’s birthday weekend when we were there, and while this man deserves the sun, the moon, and the stars, an overnight in Vermont was a fitting second choice for a New Englander with a fall birthday. Rachael made him a tall chocolate cake, Joe had a roaring fire going, and we had such a nice time. On the way home, a stop at Woodstock Inn was necessary. With that burst of mums on their front lawn, giant pumpkins standing proudly on the wall, and huge fire inside, it would’ve been wrong to pass it by.This isn’t a birthday post, but let me say here: Steve, we love you so much. You’re just the best. Goodbye, Woodstock. We’ll see you in a few months, hopefully.