
I like family traditions. Actually I like tradition and history in general. I think there is something grounding in the old and familiar. It reminds us of who we are and somehow connects us to what really matters. (
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It is no surprise then that my house is almost 100 years old, and despite every conviction I had to the contrary, I am living in the town I grew up in. I could live somewhere warmer. I could skip the snow. But then I would miss out on two very important things - family and FALL.
Even my little fledgling of a family is on our way to developing its own set of traditions. Some of them tied to my favorite season of the year. For the second year in a row Emma got to see the wonder of pumpkins on parade at Papa's Pumpkin Patch. Granted our fall this year has consisted of only a singular nice day. And our trip was NOT on that day. Our day was 30 degrees and we stayed for only 10 minutes until Emma started turning blue. But none-the-less the tradition has been forged.

(Here is Emma last year on a much nicer day and with of the assistance of pumpkins to sit up. Man how they grow.)
Another newly developed tradition of the fall that is near and dear to my heart is my cinnamon ice cream,
recipe here. It is a little bit of creamy heaven on my tongue and perfect for a season overrun with apple goodies. Last night I got to christen my ice cream maker, a Christmas present specifically for this task, and again be reminded why I love this fall treat.