FEEDING OUR HAPPINESS

My daughter and I head up to our hair appointments at a new place in New Hampshire.  Expecting horrible traffic (aka "The Usual"), we leave early and arrive way ahead of schedule because, contrary to every other afternoon we've hit the highway northbound, there is no heavy traffic whatsoever.

This leads to the important question: What to do to fill the time?

There's an orchard with a large farm stand building up the street, so we head in that direction.  When we get there, though, it turns out the place is an ice cream stand that maybe in the fall might have apples.  What a rip.

Turning around we pass a sign that points off to the right and claims "Pick your own strawberries, 2 miles..."  We don't have time to pick, but we do have time to kill, so off we go on an adventure.

Turns out this place is a pretty big deal.  They have all kinds of fields and orchards with several different "pick your own" options.  The farm stand (which is open and stocked) sells fresh vegetables and fruit, but it also sells specialty sauces, local honey, various other items, and home-baked goods.  I opt for a zucchini, and I throw in a slice of lemon blueberry zucchini bread and a slab of strawberry rhubarb crumble.

I pay at the register and look around for my daughter.  I find her across the street standing at a chicken wire fence.  She is reaching into her pocket and tossing quarters into a modified gumball dispenser.  By the time I get across the street to join her, I realize what she is doing.

My grown daughter is feeding the farm animals... and she is absolutely delighted.

Ten minutes and three handfuls of food pellets later, we leave the goats and sheep behind, landing at the hair salon exactly at the scheduled time.  Once our hands are washed (and our hair), we dive into the baked goodies, vowing to return to the farm stand long before our next hair appointment rolls around.