The Giving Tree

A few days ago, I took my kids to pick apples from my great-grandmother’s tree.

I couldn’t help but think about planting a few apple trees myself for my great great grandkids to pick when I’m gone. A means to spoil grandchildren even if you’re gone before they get to earth? Sign me up, please!

(the view from under the tree.)

The kids were great about gathering good apples from the ground (I may or may not have convinced them that the ones that were left behind cried themselves to sleep because no one loved them enough to pick them up…) and I was so glad to have their help.
Picking apples, it turns out, brings out the Braxton Hicks in my body.

Ah, fall. Crisp, crisp, fall.
I hang onto you because when you end, so does my pregnancy. While I’m excited for my pregnancy to be over, I’m MORE nervous about the life changing that’s about to go on up in hur.

Be sweet to your mama. And please. At least TRY to pretend the womb is the nicest place you’ve ever been to and NOT a 3 dimensional trampoline. I don’t think you realize how strong you are, precious.
Thanks ever so.

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