Thomas Wolfe never rode the train

We used to visit the Nut Tree every fall for the pumpkin patch. Situated on the great gray ribbon of rumbling highway between San Francisco and Sacramento, the place began as a simple fruit stand in 1921 and morphed over the years into a catch-all entertainment stop, complete with restaurant, miniature train ride and merry-go-round. You couldn’t miss the enormous freeway logo — a kitschy ’70s sign in flashbulb chic, a true roadside attraction. We’d drive by and grow dizzy with excitement, thinking about the enormous lollipops for sale and the rocking horses to tame, if only we could figure out a way to make our parents stop.

“Maybe next time,” they’d say, and in the backseat we’d groan, watching the flashing sign disappear as the highway curved and rolled through gentle hills, carrying us home.

The place closed nearly 15 years ago and the land stood dormant. Fall would come, and though much older, I’d grow excited about the thought of smooth, home made pumpkin ice cream, and just as I reached for my car keys, I’d remember and sigh. But that kind of land — just off the freeway with easy exits and onramps — must be expensive. At some point, the city approved a run-of-the-mill strip mall and jammed some the old Nut Tree rides in the back — a feel-good sop to get the development built. While the environment has certainly changed — pull into the parking lot and face the stores and you could literally be anywhere in the United States — I have to admit it’s a thrill to see they dug out some old rides and polished them and made them available again.

The other day, Emme and I drove to see my mom, and we had an hour to kill, so I decided to stop at the Nut Tree again. We’d been there before since it reopened, but this time it felt different. She didn’t need as much help. She could ride the rocking horses by herself, raising one arm and twirling an imaginary lasso. She went on the carousel by herself, choosing a green crocodile and waving at me. “It’s OK, daddy,” she called over the rails, “It’s friendly — I’ll be fine.” I watched as she struggled with toddler-sized chess pieces, moving them across the board so the knight could have a tea party with the queen. “Which one is the princess?” she wanted to know, and I pointed to a pawn. Together we served cake and force fed the bishop tea, but the rook must have been offended by something and left early.

We rode the rainbow-colored train together and sitting there in the tiny green car, feeling her ball of a body curled on my lap and her excited breath on my neck, we pulled an imaginary whistle together and shouted out “toot toot!” as steam blasted overhead and the wheels chugged and rattled, clunking around a simple loop that felt all at once completely different and achingly familiar.

More photos at the photo page today.