This morning, the child and I needed to escape the house. The past week has been one of the entire family being ill—the child crabby and continuously testing the limits of independence, the wife and the child with the stomach flu, myself recovering from a major cold and its accompanying fatigue. So, we headed off to wander around Puyallup.
The child and I found ourselves at Meeker Mansion for the annual cider squeeze. We didn't personally transform any apples into cider through our own labor; we watched others work. I took pictures of Meeker Mansion, the grounds, the many trains that trundled past, the cider squeeze workers, the citizens who came to squeeze apples. The child ate snacks and listened to the musicians—guitarists, two mandolinists, and a plethora of violinists—who played folk tunes.
The child and I found ourselves at Meeker Mansion for the annual cider squeeze. We didn't personally transform any apples into cider through our own labor; we watched others work. I took pictures of Meeker Mansion, the grounds, the many trains that trundled past, the cider squeeze workers, the citizens who came to squeeze apples. The child ate snacks and listened to the musicians—guitarists, two mandolinists, and a plethora of violinists—who played folk tunes.
It was nice to be out of the house, enjoying the cool, misty air.
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