We are just back from our last {planned} trip of the year. Four days near the shores of Lake Michigan made for a restful, mini-vacation at the close of another summer. Casey had one last class before his final exam in November so while he studied diligently, the boys and I explored and enjoyed very much the sunshine and water. And peaches.
Michigan fruit country during the height of peach season is a delightful place to be. We spent a lovely morning at an orchard where I thoroughly enjoyed watching how differently my three sons responded to the opportunity before them.
Josiah approached it as a challenge to fill his bucket {which happens quicker than you'd like with peaches}. He wanted perfect fruit specimens and delighted in showing me each peach he diligently sought out and chose.
Bereket dwaddled from this tree to that tree, nibbling just a bit of a peach, more concerned with the rash that he might get, no, that he knew he had. Unfortunately, he had heard the lady who checked us in warn me that the peach fuzz can irritate skin and he became rather obsessed with concern over touching the fruit. Or the heat of the day. Or something.
And Tamagn. Tamagn chose his peach, flipped his bucket over to serve him as a seat, sat his little self down in the sun and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy the moment. Between bites of golden goodness with sweet juicy running down his chin and arms, he sang away, "I will cast all my cares upon you, I lay all of my burdens down at your feet..."
They are so very different. I need days in an orchard to appreciate the differences. To see the person behind the complaining or the mess or the song. They are little people, precious little people and I want them to know that I am so glad that I get to be their mom. I want them to know that they are enjoyed.
Michigan fruit country during the height of peach season is a delightful place to be. We spent a lovely morning at an orchard where I thoroughly enjoyed watching how differently my three sons responded to the opportunity before them.
Bereket dwaddled from this tree to that tree, nibbling just a bit of a peach, more concerned with the rash that he might get, no, that he knew he had. Unfortunately, he had heard the lady who checked us in warn me that the peach fuzz can irritate skin and he became rather obsessed with concern over touching the fruit. Or the heat of the day. Or something.
And Tamagn. Tamagn chose his peach, flipped his bucket over to serve him as a seat, sat his little self down in the sun and proceeded to thoroughly enjoy the moment. Between bites of golden goodness with sweet juicy running down his chin and arms, he sang away, "I will cast all my cares upon you, I lay all of my burdens down at your feet..."
They are so very different. I need days in an orchard to appreciate the differences. To see the person behind the complaining or the mess or the song. They are little people, precious little people and I want them to know that I am so glad that I get to be their mom. I want them to know that they are enjoyed.
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