i went home to see my parents over the weekend and on my list of things to do, in addition to making a stop at Target and buying a jug of apple cider because i haven't been able to find it anywhere near my apartment, was visiting None Such Farm.
after last weekend's visit to the pumpkin patch with the boys, i got a particularly intense burst of nostalgia. every October when i was little, my parents and i would take a drive to Bucks County to visit None Such. we'd pick our pumpkins and go to the farm's market for hot apple cider. the market also had a wide selection of those old-fashioned candy sticks - you know, the swirly-colored things that look like candy canes, without the curvy part at the top. back in those days, choosing the right two or three candy sticks was even more crucial than choosing the right pumpkin.
but it wasn't just about the candy (hard to believe, but true). i have nice, fuzzy memories of those days and every once in a while a girl gets an urge to revisit the old, fuzzy days. i floated the idea with my parents, they loved it, the weather couldn't have been nicer, so off we went.
the first clue that times had changed should have been the line of cars waiting to get into the "pumpkin festival" at None Such Farm. gone were the simple days when it was just a field of pumpkin vines. once we were able to actually make the turn and inch down the long dusty road toward the farm, we realized we had happened upon a major event.
there were pony rides, a corn maze, face painting, a banjo band, hay rides - pulled by either horses or a tractor, whatever your pleasure - and, oh yeah, pumpkins. there were a ton of people there, more than half of them kids, it seemed. most adults would either be a) charmed or b) overwhelmed by this.
i chose option c) reverting back to the 1982 version of myself.
as soon as i saw the horses pulling the hayride wagon, i lost my (for lack of a better word) shit. these words literally came out of my mouth: "horses! hay ride! horses! we have to go! can we go? we have to!" my hopes were buoyed when i saw a sign that said hay rides were only $3. surely dad couldn't say no!
my father, being the smart, shrewd man that he is, made a beeline for the pumpkin patch, asking for my help in finding the two most perfect pumpkins available. we searched for about five minutes, plucked two beauties right off the vine, and headed for the checkout. he was in the process for paying for the pumpkins, plus two potted mums for the front porch, when i realized that we'd have to take our purchases all the way to the car, then walk all the way back to buy tickets for the hayride.
considering the fact that my mother's knee is acting about 30 years older than the rest of her, the odds of this were slim to none. actually, they were just none.
i was embarrassingly disappointed. i didn't pout, necessarily, but when my father said that he would take his grandkids on a horse-drawn hayride someday (i love how parents throw those grandkid comments in, just to underline the fact that you are, indeed, old enough to give them grandkids). i replied that i would tell his someday-grandkids that their grandpa was no fun, that he had the chance once upon a time to take their mother on a hayride and HE SAID NO.
(i'm not proud of this, just to clarify.)
we got back in the car and waited in a lot of traffic simply to cross the street to get to the None Such market. at least, i thought, i could get some hot apple cider and a few candy sticks to soothe my disappointment.
you know where this is going.
THERE WAS NO HOT CIDER. and not one single candy stick. i wandered around the market not wanting to believe it, waiting for the nice, fuzzy feelings to kick in, but it was no use. with slumped shoulders, i mumbled to my parents that we should just go home. on the way out to the parking lot we saw a flier for the pumpkin festival we'd just left. i gasped. "look!" i said and pointed to the part of the flier that said HOT APPLE CIDER would be available, along with hot dogs and face painting. "it's across the street!" i told my dad. "we missed it! let's go back!"
that's when my dad said, "there seems to be a direct correlation between two-year olds and almost thirty-two-year olds."
well, when you put it like that...
so, lesson learned. nice, fuzzy memories are nice and fuzzy because they took place in a kinder, simpler time. and trying to recreate those times only works if your expectations are in check - and if you can revisit old places without regressing.
something i probably need to work on.
mb
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