While Iris is at school, Akiva studies volume.

Which cars fit into which trucks?

How will they all get where they need to go?

Later, I take an opportunity to photograph myself with my son.

While I try to point my fancy camera at us, he just goes ahead and looks cute.

Last winter, all the apple trees at the museum had their low branches pruned to keep people from picking their fruits.

And among the dozens of apple trees at the museum, there was only one tree full of apples this autumn.

Which, without a picker, left us very little to pick at all. On the ground, a few old apples lay in various states of decay.

Apples in various states of decay acquire unique flavors and textures, interesting to explore with the palate.

We did a little exploring.

Uncle Dan visited.

He brought us apple picking.

He and Iris picked a lot of apples!

Akiva appreciated their efforts.

“Apom-bay! Apom-bay!” he said.

Dan is the one who figured it out: “I think he’s trying to say ‘apple.'”

You’d think I’d have found that obvious.

*   *   *

Later, we took Dan for a walk. He didn’t end up in any photos, tho. Sorry, Dan!

Birth, Death, Resurrection.

This is my religion.

It is what my mother taught me.

She taught me how to resurrect

bones.

Meat.

Weeds.

Leaves.

Scraps.

Scat.

And now my daughter asks:

“Will this go back to Earth?”

Devotion:

this is what I care for.

Faith:

I have no doubt.

What we do in this small temple,

it is righteous.

It is holy.

Decomposition is life.

I decompose.

…around the block

through the little path

into the community garden

to see

what has changed with the season

then on

and on…

I have been finding it rather difficult to take photos lately. Akiva is the age that Iris was when she started following photographic composition instructions. He is also the age of Iris when she was, quite regularly, telling me BEFORE she needed to pee. (Harumph. Not after.) Iris listens and does as she is told. Akiva lets us know what we should do and where we are supposed to go. Sometimes I can get Akiva to follow direction by trying to convince Iris to tell him what to do. She’s generally more successful than I am. He would rather not do anything without her, and he would like to do everything she does. And more.

I haven’t told you any stories of the river this summer.

The first story was sometime in July. I didn’t bring my camera, which was a good thing. Iris and Akiva and I hiked in the river from where the path enters the river at the bottom of the big hill to where the river goes under the bridge on Shelburne Road. It took a few hours. The water went over my waist at times. Which is why it was a good thing I didn’t bring my camera. As it was, my one-week-old phone drowned. Which was also a good thing, in a way. I brought the phone for emergencies. The week prior, I decided to give my couple-month-old fancy-fancy phone to Martin. He appreciates the fanciness of it more than I do. So I bought myself a cheeper, less-smart phone to dunk in the river. After a week and a half in rice, the phone began to work again. It has some glitches— namely that it stops functioning in emergency situations— but it’s otherwise more-or-less unscathed.

The second story was a little while later, when we did that hike again. Iris was amazing. Absolutely fantastic. She wore her baby carrier and carried her doll Megan both times. Megan was just fine. Akiva, in his carrier, did not appreciate being dipped in the river while trying to nap. But since then, Akiva insists on hiking a lot and refuses to be carried for too long. So probably we won’t be doing that hike again.

For the next few stories, we started crossing the river to bushwhack on the other side. I let Iris lead. She picks out the best paths. She likes walking up and down little waterfalls, explaining herself and her view of the world the whole time. Actually, Iris never stops talking. Ever. She doesn’t understand why I don’t like to talk and eat at the same time. But that’s not really a story about the river.

The last couple stories about the river, we just go to the bottom of the hill, cross the water, and stop. Akiva is happier that way. On Labor Day, we met Finn and Lucy by the river. They were building a race-course for boats out of rocks. The boats were made of bark. I asked how long it took to make the course. They said about two hours.

Today we went down to visit Finn & Lucy’s boat course. Iris really wanted to see Finn & Lucy, but we just saw their course. We could see they’d been working on it some more. They fixed up the finish line a lot and tidied up the rocks. Iris spent some time sending boats down the course. You can see part of it in the foreground, at the bottom of this photo. The log to the right is the finish line.

Akiva, meanwhile, was off discovering the joys of peeing in the woods. He’d say “pee-pee!” then squat and pee. The first couple times it worked fine. After that he had to really try hard to get out a few drops. He now pees on command while naked in the woods. If only we lived in the woods, naked…

I was in the kitchen grinding meat when I heard the sound of drums drumming and fifes fifing.

Out the window, across a neighbor’s yard, I saw a marching band.

“Parade!” I said, and Iris said, “Is there really a parade?”

There really was.

So I put the meat in the fridge and washed my hands and dressed the children and we ran

outside, across another neighbor’s yard

just in time to see the beginning.

Of which I did not get any pictures, because I didn’t bring my camera.

But there were many many many fire trucks and rescue vehicles. Possibly 40.

Among them were seven vintage fire trucks and all of them whooping their sirens

whoop-whoop which made it quite difficult for anyone to notice when one of the two ambulances

stepped out of line whoop-whoop and another whoop-whoop HOOONK! and a HOOONK!

because there was some real emergency someplace, not just a parade.

Afterwards, we went home, got strollers and diaper changes, shoes hats and toys, and we went to the fire station

where they were showing of the newly-restored Engine No. 1

and giving out some thank-yous.

We took our own vintage 1960s fire engine for a photo-op amongst the big ones.

Iris has been itching to run around the woods naked ever since last week,

when the idea first occurred to her.

So when the four of us went down the big hill across the river to the far side

where hardly anyone goes,

I couldn’t see much of a reason to say no.

Iris thought Akiva would like to be naked too.

She thought that everyone would probably want to run around the woods naked.

So she asked, “Papa, would you like to run around the woods naked?”

And he said, “I would like—”

And then she pestered him until idea and desire and actuality

were one and the same.