Warning (to my sister): This post is likely to cause severe homesickness. View at your own risk!
After church today we set out to enjoy the full colors of the autumn trees. I wanted to take pictures because it's been several years since the tree have been this vibrant. Earlier I'd seen a map on the news that seemed to show everything within driving distance to be in peak season. We packed the camera, the tripod, and the kids and headed west - toward the mountains.
Sidenote: We got gas for $1.89 a gallon!
Anyway, about a half hour outside of town we started to notice that the yellow trees looked more brown than yellow. Ten minutes more and we noticed that many of the trees didn't have any leaves left at all. Finally, about forty-five minutes into our trip, we decided to turn back. Who wants pictures of bare trees?
The fact that Daniel was in the back seat hollering, " I wanna go home!" had no effect on the decision whatsoever.
Wanting to save the otherwise disappointing day, I called my parents to see if they were up for company. When we arrived at their house, the kids bounded out of the car and straight to the swing set. I went inside to get warm - and spotted Mom's large round mixing bowl on the counter. With a towel over it.
The towel meant dough was rising. Rising for what? As we visited, I tried to figure out what she might be making. Bread? not likely. Pepperoni Roll? maybe. But then she called it a treat and I knew for sure and for certain that the day would end in pleasant bliss. My dreams had come true.
Oh yes. She heard I was acomin' and she made those blessedly sweet cinnamon rolls. We ate them warm, right out of the oven drizzled with vanilla icing. And I enjoyed every bite, drip, and crumb.
Mom wrapped up a section for us to take home, so I put one in Brenna's lunch for tomorrow. Can you even imagine the envy at her lunch table? I might have to pack her a stick to fight off the crowds.