Autumning

(With apologies to a life littered with cardboard boxes, the world's most stressful house closing(s), bidding adieu and savoring hello, toddler transitions, a broken Nana knee, 18.6 inches of Minnesota snow, pit bull toe surgery, and at least 85 already declared snow emergencies).

Around these parts, Renaissance Festival marks the start of autumning.

And butterfly swings are a must. 

Two months later, we're still reliving the great "Nana got stung by a bee" incident of 2010. It has not been a good year for Nana.

Like Mommy, like Lili.

Lili has her own ideas about face painting....

....and they most certainly do not include pre-fab Renaissance "black cats".

Fairy Wings, Take II.

Autumning adventures also brought a pumpkin patch trip to Litchfield, MN, where we shared in the company of old friends (Mommy's)....

....made new friends (Lili's)....

....and enjoyed the unseasonably warm splendor of a Minnesota farm in October.

(The pumpkin to beat all pumpkins.)

And finally, the essence of autumning (Halloween, not pink poodles).

Determined to pass on the obsessive love of Halloween to my daughter, I began planning her costume around, oh, September 1st (a pink pig, for the record). Like most of my well-intentioned parenting plans, however, the pink pig idea was shot to hell when Lili caught a glimpse of the pink poodle.

Lili: "I want to be a pink poodle".
Mommy (contemplating): "Are you sure sweetie? Look at the little hooves on the piggy!"
Lili: "I want to be a pink poodle".
Mommy: "The piggy has a curly tail...just like the pugs!"
Lili: "I want to be a pink poodle".

My daughter is nothing if not decisive. In this case, however, her toddler wisdom prevailed, and fluffy pink ears were most definitely the obvious choice this particular Halloween.

Posterity.

A parting shot of Mama and Lili standing outside "the old house", about a month and a half before we packed our everything, swept away the remaining cobwebs, and turned the keys that had hung on our key chains for the past six years over to a stranger. The old house that wasn't a home until Lili breathed life into once neglected corners...the house where Lili diligently practiced tummy time....where she and Mama tentatively came to know one another over dirty diapers and evening baths....where I accidentally bonked her tiny, infant head on the front door frame...where, as a one-year old, she sat on our bed and frantically signed "cat" over and over as we let a Panda kitten out of her cardboard Humane Society box. The house that changed everything. The house that made us whole.

As we drove away together for the last time, Lili waved, and recited what we had practiced the night before.

"Bye-bye, house! Thanks for keeping us safe! We love you! See you soon".