It’s called Afton Apple Orchard but my granddaughter, Ali, and I are focused on the mountain made of tires. Ali has been here before with her kindergarten class, but it’s the first time for me.
As she emerges the fall sunlight shines in her long hair and the eager cries of dozens of kids running towards us almost drowns out her small but excited voice, “Did you see me, Grandma?” In the next moments the others ascend the tire mountain and she is no longer the Queen.
2 comments:
Oh the memories this elicits. In my history Queen of the Mountian was atop a huge pile of sand the county stored across the street where I lived. I was somewhere in the neighborhood of nine or ten. My siblings and I would burrow into the sand, creating secret hideaways. Little were we aware of the danger we were in. Your granddaughter will forever have this memory, and the great feeling it inspired.
There were so many ways we were in danger as children! It's a wonder we made it through. I'm so glad we lived then and had those experiences.
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