Return to the farm, part two

The quarries hold the eye at any time of year, but in the Fall they seem especially dramatic.

Those tiny specks on the water are a huge flock of geese swimming madly away from us. Can you see the buzzards soaring overhead?
We walked all the way around the upper quarry to look back at the cliff where we first stood.
Then we went down to the lower quarry, quiet and mysterious behind the trees.
Mimi gathered juniper with frosty blue berries to go with the bright orange bittersweet we cut.
I was surprised to find the rock piles overgrown with sycamore and sumac. I remember climbing over stacks of naked limestone with little kids and a furry black terrier - running up hills of discarded, crushed stone - all of it now grown into woods.
Granddad waited patiently back at the house for us, watching down the driveway.
He knew lunch wouldn't be served until we returned. And there's nothing better than a farmhouse lunch with fresh tomatoes and corn and crisp apples.

As we gathered pears to carry home, we wished you all could have been there with us.