bring out 'yer punkins!

I have no idea why I titled this post with what I did. But it reminds me of my Dad when we (the Shannon kids) were teenagers and he would try to get us out of bed in the morning. (...by the way...what happens from age 14 months to 14 years that makes you go from waking up at the butt crack of dawn to avoiding the morning sunlight like the plague? I wish Jillian would catch that drift a little sooner than later...). ANYWAY. He would literally walk down the hallway banging a pot with a wooden spoon saying "Bring out 'yer dead! Bring out 'yer dead!" Monty Python anyone?

I heard about this barn down in Santaquin (aka a speck of a town about 35 miles south of Provo) that had really good fudge and apple cider. So we went, naturally. It was really quaint. They had the most delicious looking treats and chocolate covered everythings, in addition to tons of fresh fruit grown on the farms there. We decided on homemade ice cream: banana nut, pomegranate, and mint chocolate chip, a bajillion fresh apples (that I'm not quite sure what to do with), local raspberry syrup, and homemade apple cider. Yum-o in my holiday growing little tum-o. 

We went on the hayride, where Jillian tried (and was successful) in eating hay by the hand fulls and my pants ripped open by the crotch (maybe I should've declined ice cream?). 

Jillian said probably a thousand times, "Puummm!" (translation: pumpkin). They also had a random giant slide to go down on burlap sacks- way fun. Jillian shrieked all the way down (in a good way- she loved it...I think...).

So if you're willin' to drive 30 minutes (I know, I'm totally spoiled by city living now) for some scrumptious treats in the middle of nowhere accompanied by a big friggin' slide- do it.  

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