I’m home (yes, it’s still home) for Thanksgiving and all the nephews are here. As a counterpoint to computer games and mindless videos, we took an after-lunch walk to the Hooksett pinnacle. It’s a small hill (disrespectfully referred to by one nephew as a mound), but it's rugged, fairly untouched, and in the middle of suburbia it feels blissfully removed from the malls less than a mile away. Even though you can hear the highway in the distance, it’s a beautiful, woodland spot.
White and red pine, granite out-croppings, birch trees, lowbush blueberries, and surprisingly, a few mushrooms left in the snow. The wet oak leaves and pine needles made the trail slippery, but that didn’t stop all five boys from throwing snowballs and generally racing around alarmingly close to the edge of the cliff.
When we got home, Willy (nephew # 2 in the lineup) helped me pick crab apples. He’s a very fast picker, and so far the only nephew who shows any interest in foraging. Last year we made jelly but this time I’m thinking pickles…if that’s ok w/Willy.