Solomon went pumpkin picking with his class this week. I went along as a chaperone. It was exquisite at the farm, the hues of autumn leaves, the dark burgundy apples, the background of clouds so perfectly placed they seemed painted in the sky.

The farm is a stone's throw from the school, around the corner up a hill. The breathtaking countryside  wasn't lost on Solomon and his classmates.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? This farm." I heard one boy say on the hayride.

Second grade is a wonderful age, probably my favorite so far. Kids are tough yet vulnerable, their smiles filled with gaps,teeth coming and going, they are making connections, putting things together, they are filled with life.

We walked around the pumpkin patch, each child picking a favorite. Some chose ones barely ripe, others opted for plump or bumpy ones, some chose pumpkins small enough to hold in one hand, other children hunched over, struggling, wondering if they could manage carrying their prize  the whole walk back to the school bus.

All morning there was an excitement in the air, a contagious energy that radiated from them. I couldn't put my finger on what it was, and then I realized it was pure living-in-the-moment happiness, it was hope. Hope for the now, hope for the future, hope for everything.