Romping and Stomping on Saturday



Saturday Morning. Grape Harvest Festival just down the road.
Started with a 5K. Tip toe out the door.
Meet with a handful of runners.
Giddy, silly, sloppy. On your mark, get set, go!
Through the vineyards we run along side heavy vines ready to harvest.
The wind blows. I lift my feet and fly and breathe and love the fresh air.

In no time flat, I rush back through the front door. Reload car. Loud and noisy and excited. Mama and William drop off oldest two and Daddy for harvesting adventures and we head back home for a nap.

An hour later we are back again. We join the others to pick golf ball size muscadines, take rides through the vineyards. Find the petting zoo, enjoy wine tasting.

And there is the jumping thing, soaking wet slip and slide, marching bands, juicy dripping grapes, grape stomping, grape throwing, hula hooping. Booths with food and gardening ideas and composting plans and tasting this and that. Collections for bag. Breeze blows. The local aquarium even had a traveling pool with sea creatures to study.

We fall into the car and stumble home with bags of grapes to mash. The children mash and mash into jelly.
 


Nap time and reload once again. Meet and greet dinner to end a week of meeting and greeting at the University. Child care provided, we march into the conference center and drop off all three. Hover like a mother bird then off to smile and laugh and meet and greet.

Recollect children and reload the car. As we exit the parking deck, we spot a group of guys dancing. Stomp dancing and maneuvering and rhythm and beauty and synchronized. We clap and peel out.

The harvest of this day. The fullness of it all. Saturday was perfectly glorious.







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