Fall Things

For a while, it looked like we would have the cooperation of the weather for Saturday's leafing trip. A narrow band of storms blew through midmorning, soaking the landscape (and poor Fig, as he was just arriving at Home Despot), but it was forced on by a high pressure system and brought cloudless skies in its wake. The first hour of the drive was gorgeous. Then, out of nowhere, low-lying cloud cover swept in and stayed with us the rest of the day. Shortly after we made it to Wisconsin's one-and-only Apple Holler, they began releasing a fine drizzle.

That was our first stop and we were all a bit peckish. We were just going to get some food from a grillstand, but it lay only steps within a ticketed area, so we were politely asked to pay admission. We all bridled at the thought, since our interest in the assorted amusements was effectively nil, so we ended up in the sit-down restaurant at the very tail of the lunch rush. To our surprise, it was actually decent. Yeah, my potato pancake was undercooked on one side and the appled-studded coleslaw was too mayo-heavy, but the fried fish Fig and I shared was quite respectable, firm and not greasy nor too heavily-breaded.

Meanwhile, the drizzle was intensifying, so our shopping coincided with a rush indoors, leading to long lines and a struggle to find products. (For an apple-themed establishment, they sure make their apple butter perversely hard to find.) Happily, though, this concluded with the acquisition of--among many other things--a dozen apple cider donuts still warm from the fryer. At this point, we concluded that the rest of our day was simply gravy and retreated to the car to formulate a plan.

Fig had a comically vague hand-drawn map from a coworker listing various attractions nearby. We decided to turn back and then off onto C to check out a few. The first was a ramshackle horror of a place called Happ's Pumpkin Patch. Fig described it as "the kind of place I would've loved if I was six" but I think at that age I would've found it terrifying. It was littered with refuse of all sorts--old machinery, strange statuary, weatherbeaten sheds--including two old schoolbuses which looked like exactly like the sort of place you would get murdered in a slasher film.

In fact, it dawned on us that the entire scenario--three city slickers heading down a shabby rural to a location recommended by "this woman I know from work"--was straight out of the Big Book of Horror Movie Clichés. Then when we saw signs advertising the "Pumpkindaze" festival in the neighbouring hamlet of Salem (whose hair salon is intriguingly named "Headhunters"), we just lost it. And that was before we found that one of the two restaurants at the end of the road in tiny Wilmot was a rambling house on the hill above town attached to a bunker-like cement building of uncertain function.

Of course, having just filled up at the orchard, we were in no mood for dinner. Despite the coworker's description, there was little of picturesque interest in little Wilmot and no cute shops (but both a dance and a yoga studio), so we decided to get the hell out of dodge before nightfall. The day concluded with a visit to the worst laid-out and least bargain-driven outlet mall any of us have ever been to. I walked away with $200 in clothing I desperately needed, but at the cost of our dinner hour, leading to a hurried cheese sandwich at home before I headed out to my first party of the evening.

Into Sunday

Despite the impression I'd gotten from the invite, the event Saturday evening was not a costume party. It was a birthday/housewarming party with a horror-movie theme, not a birthday/housewarming/Halloween party. But given the season, everyone just assumed I'd either come from or was going to a party which was fancy dress, so it was all good. MOE was pretty lit by the time I arrived, which was cute but made for boring interaction, so I spent most of my time there talking to a couple guys I sorta knew through Great Lakes Bears (especially one who'd just moved back to town after a long absence) and, eventually, BDA.

He knew of another birthday get-together a couple blocks away and convinced me to run over there with him. This was more my scene: all Bears around my age or older, with some ethnic diversity and a Deaf contingent. I ran into the Storms, who I haven't seen in forever, and they promised to have me over again sometime. I also met two younger Bears who independently seemed convinced they'd met me before on the basis of my big ol' beard. Whatever. Unfortunately, because the median age was so high, the party began breaking up not long after we arrived. Firepaw, who lives in the building, made a rare appearance and I lingered to spend some time with him, but one of the hosts was determinedly clearing up and relations between the remaining guests were beginning to turn Dramatic, so I made my escape.

The next morning was my one opportunity in the weekend to see Blondie, staying over for a couple of days between a job in Milwaukee and one in Kankakee. Nuphy was trying to get us to Chinatown for dim sum and I was trying to negotiate someplace more convenient, i.e. closer to Blondie's Streeterville hotel. We eventually settled on a casual joint on Walton, but not without a lot of ridiculous back-and-forth. I also ended up waking up the poor thing since the silly old geezer never told me he was trying to sleep in. "For me, 'sleeping in' means like 8 o'clock!" Good for you, Nuphys, good for you.

It was a good meal and afterwards Nuphy dragged us into the Boul Mich maelstrom. First Macy's for some shampoo that comes in solid form, then to the Apple Store where he was considering watches. I could see that Blondie was running down, however, and I was keenly aware of how much daylight we were burning on one of the finest days of fall, so I manoeuvred us back to the Hancock where we went our separate ways--Blondie back to the hotel for a nap, Nuphy home, and me to the express bus stop.

It was nearly four by the time I got home, which left me with just enough daylight for some of the transplanting I need to finish up. The ornamental grass is now almost entirely relocated from the front walk to the sunny end of the hellstrip. I've sunk all the tulips from out back into the beds where it was, but I'm worried some of these bulbs are too damaged to survive. Oh well; it'll all work out fine next spring when we get some flats of marigolds or whatever to plant there.

I also got the last epimedium in the ground and two more pulmonaria. As I was fighting the gloom to sink the last of these, An Baoghallach came by with his partner in crime and bent my ear so long that monshu eventually wandered out to join us. He's got at least two more events to add to my social calendar for this coming month. Add that to our other vague commitments--Pilsen for DdM, Ethiopian Diamond with Mozhu, dinner with Turtle and Turtlewife, etc.--and it's starting to look like a full month indeed.