Foggy Fall Dawn (From the Backyard)

Halloween Haiku 2008

Halloween again.

Customes, candy, kid-parades.

Photographs below.

The End of Soccer ... for Now

When I was in Brazil, I tried to convince people that a huge percentage of American kids grow up playing soccer. Most of my Brazilian friends met the claim with laughter. (American soccer, at the time, was considered something of a joke -- kind of like non-American basketball.) But it was true then, and it appears to be true now. When I was a kid, soccer was an integral part of Fall (perhaps the difference is that for Brazilians soccer is an integral part of every day of every week of every season). For my kids, it has been the same. But the season has now come to a close, and I can confidently say that they didn't lose a single game. Some parting pictures below.

The Philadelphian Redemption

I have previously written in this space that "[t]here's a lot of pain to being a Philadelphia sports fan. I wish it upon none of my children." Two weeks ago, even as the Phillies completed their manhandling of Manny Ramirez and the rest of the Dodgers en route to Philly's first World Series berth since I was a senior in High School, I still endorsed that sentiment. Shoot, I felt the same way a week ago, when the Phillies were just a few innings from their first World Series Championship since 1980. Why such pessimism? Because Philadelphia sports fans know disappointment. We know it well. It's the air we breathe.

But all of that changed last Wednesday night, at the conclusion of the final three innings of a game that began two days before, until rain, wind, and near-freezing temperatures forced a 46-hour suspension -- a World Series first. The Phillies were up 3-1. They had their best starter on the mound. They were in a position to clinch the title at home. And what? Mother Nature strikes. I mean, how can one city compete against that kind of karma! Phillies fans felt doomed.

Then, something miraculous happened. On Wednesday night, the fans came back -- and so did the team. We started with a double, we scored a run ("Now all we have to do is keep them from scoring and we win!" I said, probably out loud.) Then the Rays scored a run in the top of the Seventh (the second inning of the night). I fell into a mini-depression. But the Phillies kept coming. Another run scored! Now, if we could just hold them... Next thing I knew, Brad Lidge -- the Phillies closer who hadn't blown a save all year -- was on the mound. It was the top of the Ninth already?! One batter up, one batter down. One out. Then, a single and a stolen base. Man in scoring position with only one out. Stink, stink, stink, stink, stink, stink... Then, a line drive to right field that was ... caught for the second out -- no time for the runner on second base to tag to third. One out away, one out away, one out away... (At this point, I was pacing the floor like a mental patient, half-afraid to watch.) Strike one! Two more strikes, two more strikes, two more strikes... Strike two! Could this be really happening??? Swing and a miss! Strike three! Game over! Lidge collapses to his knees and is rushed by the team! The Phillies defeat the Rays 4 games to 1 and win their first World Series in 28 years! Exclamation points abound!!!!!!!

My mother-in-law, who was holding my newborn son, watched the whole thing transpire, including when I ran outside and screamed at the top of my lungs. She can testify that I'm making none of this up. "People that aren't from Philadelphia don't understand," I explained. She figured that must be the case.

Now, my kids will be Philadelphia sports fans ... if they want.

Jacob Bertram Willis

And then, there were five.

Baby Jake joined our family at 1:30 am, October 25, weighing in at 8 lbs. 14 oz. and measuring some 22.5 inches. Jen did great and appears to be recovering as well and rapidly as usual. The other kids, for their part, have been showering love on their newest sibling and future partner in crime. Grant has had perhaps the easiest job of all, and feels much gratitude for such supportive parents/grandparents, other family members, and friends. (Although he did manage to compose this post using one hand -- the other occupied by a sweet, sleeping, baby boy.)

Conference Weekend

Here is a smattering of pictures from last week's General Conference weekend (which, except for Priesthood Session on Saturday night, we watched from the comfort of our family room).

These first few were taken between sessions.

This last one was taken during conference.

Indeed.

(It was, however, a wonderful conference.)

Picking for Ourselves

There was a great article last year in Slate about how, in purely economic terms, apple picking is a "wasteful scam." History has shown that we don't really care.

Seven years ago -- in our second year in the area -- we first went apple picking as a family, along with our good friends the Wilhelms. We drove to a beautiful patch in the Virginia countryside called Hartland Orchard. At Hartland, apples are sold by the bushel (and they are very liberal about what constitutes a bushel). The orchard has apparently been around for a while, and the trees are large and mature enough to climb up and in. In fact, much of the fun was seeing just how high we could scale in order to reach the really, really big apples. We continued the annual rite with the Wilhelms for as long as they were in the area (before moving to the other Washington). We also went once or twice alone and/or with my brother Tim's family.

In most ways, Hartland is the perfect apple-picking venue. The only problem is that it takes a while to get there. As our family has grown, and the kids' activities have increased, we no longer have the "luxury" of spending the better part of Saturday traveling to and from hill-country Virginia to pick apples. So now, we pick a bit closer to home. The last two seasons that we've picked (we didn't get around to it last year, a fact the children reminded us of often) we have gone to Larriland Farm in Woodbine, Maryland. It's a bit more expensive than Hartland and not quite as "out of the way," but it's a neat place nonetheless. We continued the economically irrational tradition today, after soccer games and in between rain drops, leaving with about 30 pounds of red delicious, golden delicious, gala, and empire varieties. Give me two weeks, and I'll have had my fill until next season.

Some pictures of picking throughout the years:

2002 (Abby was younger then than Ben is now). We don't have any pix from 2001.

2003

2005, with Tim, Crystal and Co. (no pix in 2004, although I know we went). Jen has occasionally made caramel dip for consumption on site.

2006 (first time at Larriland Farm)

2008 (a little earlier in the season than normal, and a little warmer/wetter)

(Pete trying not to think about getting stung by any of the inhabitants of the bee boxes to his rear)

(on-site experimentation is an essential aspect of the apple-picking experience)