A Day at the Scary Fall Fair

Autumn in Cats Hollow has a way of softening everything — even the scarecrows look a little kinder under the gold of late October. We went to the Fall Fair that afternoon, the air crisp with apples and woodsmoke, the kind that lingers in your hair and feels like a memory before the day has even ended.

Liv Marie was wide-eyed in her little carrier, watching balloons rise above the pumpkins, as if they might carry the season itself into the sky. Her tiny hands reached for the air, curious and brave — the way only a child can be when everything still feels like magic.

Her aunt laughed beside us, warm and bright as the lanterns lining the path. Somewhere, a carousel creaked, and the Ferris wheel turned slowly — its pumpkin-shaped cabins glowing against the pale afternoon. It wasn’t really scary at all, just a little odd, a little whimsical — the kind of place where witches might trade recipes for apple pie instead of spells.

Later, we walked through the orchard, picking up fallen apples and pretending to bob for them like children. Michael tried it first — with more enthusiasm than technique — and Liv squealed with delight, her laughter echoing through the trees. I stood behind them, smiling, my boots sinking into the soft earth, thinking that moments like this are the real harvest of autumn.

By evening, we sat by the fire pit near the willows, the light low and golden, the kind that makes you quiet inside. Lanterns swayed gently above us, and somewhere beyond the trees, the fair still hummed — laughter, rustling leaves, the faraway song of October winding down.

Cats Hollow always finds a way to turn the ordinary into something tender. And that day, with my family close and the scent of apples in the air, it felt like the season itself was holding us — just for a little while — before letting go.