A Monday memory....

Do either of these photos look familiar to anyone?  It's difficult to make out, but the sign above the "store" above reads: Van Riper's Farms

While growing up in northern NJ,  my family and I made countless trips to this farm, and others nearby, for locally produced fruits and vegetables from Spring right through to November. The highlight, however, was going to Van Riper's during the Halloween season.

Year after year, they set up the same scenes - the pumpkin head couple in the horse drawn wagon, the couple standing in front of the cornstalks, the scary witch flying on her broomstick at the far end of the displays and the sinister looking red devil man.  It was something you could count on - like an old friend - the familiar displays, the smell of freshly made donuts, the buzzing of the bees around the candy apples.  I loved it.

Fast forward to my years as a young mother, and despite the onslaught of "progress' in the area, the Halloween traditions at Van Riper's remained.  I was so pleased that my own children would be creating precious memories beneath the same displays while searching out the perfect pumpkins. Oh, but wait - something new had been added.

A Hayride!

Always on the lookout for something slightly unique as a venue for any of my girls' birthday parties, I decided the ride might be just the thing to celebrate daughter #2's birthday with the girls in her Fourth Grade class.  My memory is a little hazy on some of the details of that outing, but certain moments are deeply engraved.

Picture this.  Naive mother arrives at the farm with three daughters of varying ages and four Fourth Grade girls.  Darkness is descending as we peruse the corn field before purchasing our tickets and lining up for the hayride.  

Finally, it's time to climb up into the long wagon attached to a tractor.  Most of the girls choose seats opposite me on the long benches which line the sides.  There is much excitement, demonstrated by the giggling that inevitably follows young girls.  For the first several minutes the only sounds to be heard were the "oohs" and "aahs" as the wagon started to circle behind the store.  The wagon stopped.  Silence.  

Suddenly, without warning, there rose from the ground a giant of a man with a running chain saw and shouts of menace!  Within seconds, I had three or four young girls scrambling to climb on top of me, screaming in my ears and clinging to any part of me they could latch on to.

Poor things!  Poor me!  What I did find somewhat amusing, as I peeled away the small bodies, was that my youngest, probably all of six years old, as well as several other tiny young children seated on the ride, did not exhibit any of the fright the Fourth Graders seemed to be gripped with.  Perhaps they were just too young to understand what it was all about.  In any event, E looked at me as if to say, "What's the big deal, Mom?"

Everyone gradually regained their composure, reclaimed their seats, and we bravely finished the ride.  I packed them all back into my station wagon to head for food.  Following this harrowing experience with dinner at Friendly's, and lots of ice cream, helped enormously. In no time, squeals of laughter once again rang through the air.

For the girls and I that was our first, and so far, last, hayride.  In hindsight, they probably did have the word "Haunted" printed prominently before "hayride". Perhaps if I had paid closer attention.....