The leaves are turning and I still haven't told you about one of the last things we drew from our summer jar in August. Even if pumpkins and skeletons are on the sideboards now, you can be sure that at our house, nothing says back to school like a pig on the breakfast table. My pig is surely my favorite animal.
Before that first day of school, and in those last days of summer, my little urbanites and I ventured to a city farm to see real live animals. We wore our wellies and explored.
Pigs, ponies, ducks, sheep, roosters. All in the shadow of the Gherkin and the Shard.
We're all so suburban and city, too. You should have seen us hooting and hollering over the farm animals. Anything without headlights and wheels seems foreign to us lately. We stood for a very long time admiring the donkeys and ponies.
The hairiest part, though wasn't the animals, but the walk back to the tube station. It wasn't a good scene. With good intentions of communing with farm life, we'd found ourselves in a rough neighborhood. Much worse, we'd just interrupted - or more accurately - relocated - a drug deal. Eeegads, friends. This wasn't exactly the lesson I was aiming for in setting out on our adventure. Nor was speed walking what we'd pulled from our jar that day, but we managed.
I'd like to think we're smart city dwellers and have become fairly accustomed to our surroundings, which often change block by block. But sometimes in the city, the people are what is really wild.
While we were at the farm, we decided to "adopt" a pony with a contribution. We received a darling photo of him in the mail the other day. I couldn't help in adding a voice over of "Thank you for adopting this sweet pony. Perhaps parting with that money kept you from being mugged on the way out! Cheers and hurry back!"
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