Weathered barns sit peacefully amidst vast fields, paint chipped and faded from the sun. Tire tracks have matted down the yellowed grass where tractors have pulled the apple crates every autumn. The air smells like fresh cider and hay, while corn stalks and mums are scattered around the farm stand. An old man leans in the doorway, smile lines driven into his face from small town warmth. Crisp, white paper bags are folded and ready for apple picking.

Note: The overall stitch pattern on this hat also coordinates with the Red Flannel mitts pattern <3