All week the forecast called for rain on Saturday. But yes, of course it wouldn 't be sunny
on Paul's weekend off. I keep telling him he has angered Mama N in some way and now
he needs to atone for his wrong doings by performing some sort of ceremonial dance in
her honour. He foolishly declines. (I jest) Anyways, when I woke up the sun was all shy
and was hiding behind the clouds so we decided to spend this gloomy day at the museum.
But as I stood in front my closet once again saying the trite line, "I have nothing to wear,"
the weather changed. Yep, the clouds vanished and the sun shone brightly, solo in the sky.
That's how long it takes me to get dressed. The weather actually changes. Since the sun was
out we thought it was a great opportunity to finally go apple picking. I'm so glad we got to go.
I've never been apple picking before. I might have gone when I was little, but who knows. I
certainly felt like a little kid and looked more ecstatic to be there than anyone else though,
including the five year olds. As soon as we arrived the smell of apple was in the air. If I
closed my eyes (and I might just have) I could imagine I was slicing freshly picked apples
in my country kitchen with yellow walls the colour of butter, plaid curtains on the window,
oak cabinets, and the late summer's cool breeze sweeping in through the open door. I was
definitely daydreaming like I was Anne Shirley. It was so pleasant there that Paul's shyness
was momentarily forgotten and he actually allowed me to snap a shot of him. See. Told you
my boyfriend is real. He's not made up. I do wish I had worn a girly dress with some move-
ment, that way I would have looked perfect frolicking through the rows of trees. Instead I felt like an out-of-place city slicker in my harsh black and knee-high boots.
All Items Thrifted
(Except my tights of course, never thrift used tights.)