We went to Apple Holler for the annual Measuring of the Boy. Apple Holler is hard to describe to the uninitiated. It’s a lot of stacked hay, it’s a petting zoo, it’s pumpkins, an apple orchard, and countless decrepit particle board photo ops, like this one:
It’s filled with a bunch of city people thinking that this is how non-city people live. Most real farms, of course, have fewer photo ops and you don’t have to pay to feed the animals or harvest the crops. That’s called “chores.”
One of those particle board photo ops is a measuring stick which Harrison was propped in front of when he was one. Then we came back when he was two and took the same picture. On Saturday, we were getting his picture at age three. This being his third time officially moves the activity from “spontaneous event that just happened to take place in sequential years” to full blown tradition. Mom will now be unable to adequately scrapbook the future years of his life without a picture of him at Apple Holler. He may even have to come here for his high school graduation pictures and wedding pictures. He can only break the cycle by having a child of his own to take his place on the Apple Holler Measuring stick.
Anyway, it was the hottest day ever. Literally. I think we broke some records. The car’s thermostat claimed it was over 100 degrees when we left, but it came down to the low 90s once the car was moving.
Oh, Al Gore, your novelty-size charts and graphs were correct! And you were right, this is totally inconvenient.
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