Page 1 of Harvesting with Hayes
CHAPTER ONE
Hayes
“Yeah,I’m about to go check it out.” I said over the phone, my voice still scratchy from sleep. “I hadn’t realized eighteen hours of driving would feel like ten thousand.” I ran my hand through my hair, the past two days having gone by in a blur of driving and exhaustion. From the upper part of Vermont in the small mountain town of Appleridge, down to Maple Falls, Tennessee, my father’s birthplace. After meeting my mother here, he moved to Appleridge to marry her and start a life, but we’d visit often, especially during the fall season with the annual fall festival.
My father chuckled. “Stopping overnight was the right move, even though it took longer.”
“There was no way I was driving straight through. Dozing off while driving is some scary shit, Pops.”
“Tell me about it.” He grumbled. “That drive never gets easier. But listen, let me know if you need anything. I’m glad you arrived safe, son. And I can’t wait to hear about how our apple cider does.”
“Thanks, talk later, okay?”
“You got it.”
I ended the call, tossed my phone on the bed, and stood up and stretched. “I won’t let you down, Dad.” I said out loud to myself, hoping I wouldn’t fail at yet another thing in life.
After a three-hour nap, I was still tired, yet I had shit to do. I came here to continue my dad’s annual tradition of selling at the festival, and to make extra money for the business. Times weren’t easy lately, and it seemed to get harder and harder to find new customers in our small town. Business wasn’t bad per se, but it wasn’t growing. So, any extra money we could make was always helpful.
This was the first year I came here on my own. My father’s health took a nosedive the past year, and it was hard seeing him struggle. Between helping him, stepping in to take over the business, and my mother’s arthritis worsening, life wasn’t easy lately. At first, I insisted on not going. Forget the tradition. Their health was more important.
But Dad thought the trip would help my morale, considering I’d only been home from my time in the military for a year, and I still felt like a black cloud hung over my head most days.
Distraction was a good thing. Distraction helped.
After a quick shower and change of clothes, I grabbed a bite to eat at the local diner in town and headed over to the festival grounds to claim my booth and drop off some cases of cider. It’d make my morning a lot easier if I got ahead now.
I parked my truck and hopped out, retrieving my dolly from the back and loading it up with cases. I pushed it towards the vendor check in, thankful I was familiar with the process. The kind woman behind the desk checked me in and let me know which booth I’d be using, along with a vendor guest pass.
It was easy to find my booth, the sign already in place that I sent in. It displayed our business logo of a mug filled with apple cider, with the business name ofSpicy Appleacross the image.The exact set up I requested with mugs, refrigeration units, and a chalkboard listing the various apple cider beverages and the prices had been brought to life, my vision coming true.
Mostly, I wanted to make Dad proud. I’d already failed in serving our country. At least I could run our family business correctly.
Wasting no time, I unloaded several cases of apple cider, making the trip to my car a few times. I checked the temperature of the refrigeration units, making sure I plugged them in, and they were working properly before filling them with cans.
With a quick glance at my completed work, I headed back to my hotel suite, ready for bed. The next two days would be busy and long and I needed all the beauty rest if I planned on surviving.
As I drove back, I took in the changing colors of leaves on the trees, the cool crisp breeze in the air. I loved this time of year, a break from the heat, and a time to enjoy nature’s brilliant process of shedding the old and growing the new.
Maybe I was here to grow and discover a new part of myself. Anything was better than what I’d already gone through.
The next morning, after a quick breakfast and shower, I pulled into the festival and let out a deep sigh, hoping to release the worries that plagued me all night. I’d barely slept a wink and could already feel the tiredness pulling at the edges of my body, holding me under until I finally relented, letting it take me away into a sweet bliss like state.
But I refused to let it win.
I parked my truck and ambled my way over to my booth, rolling another full load in front of me. That should be plenty for now.
With the festival not starting for another hour, I roamed around and checked out the other booths, interested in what was there this year.
There was a booth called Harper’s Mosaics, a young woman smiling and laughing as she chatted about a painting in her hands, one I’m assuming was hers and she was trying to sell.
Another booth name Dixon Woodworks caught my attention, with a nice guy named Felix running the business and designing his own custom furniture pieces. His woodwork was impressive.
There was also a booth, Stella’s Pie Stand, full of delicious looking and smelling pies. A young woman stood behind the counter, a smile on her face as she cut up one of her pies. My mouth watered at the sight, and I promised myself at least one slice at the end of all of this.
Nothing beats a thick slab of pie and a frosty mug of apple cider.
The fall festival brought loads of visitors to town, along with the locals, and every fall activity you could think of was there to try. From a pumpkin patch to a pie baking championship along with a pie-eating contest, to face painting, and a caramel apple dipping station where you could create your own yummy treat. There were lots of carnival games and rides, bluegrass and bonfires, and plenty of food to fill your stomach.
