Apple Picking

Two weekends ago we took part in one of our favorite fall activities. We went apple picking at a local orchard. It was a beautiful day-- not too cool, not too hot. It seems a lot of other people had the same idea. We had to wait in a line of cars to get in and then park in an improvised parking lot. As our exhaust filled the apple-fragranced-air, I couldn't help thinking how wrong it seemed to have so many cars in an orchard. By following a coded treasure map specifying precisely where and what we could pick, we found the part of the orchard where they grew the Honeycrisp apples (one of our favorite varieties). To our dismay, there weren't any apples left on the trees. Luckily we had much better luck when we found the Gala apples (although a short hike was involved.) Mostly I just wanted some good pictures for my blog...and some apple-cider doughnuts and a few apple turnovers--you know, the really important things in life...

Josh had a plan of his own and kept taking off down the rows of trees. He did hold still long enough for Jason to show him how to pick an apple. But who knows what a Washingtonian can teach a native-born New York boy about picking a New York apple? Washington may produce more apples then us, but I bet ours taste better.

Jane even decided to get in on the action although she seemed a little confused about what exactly to pick.

She wasn't confused once she got the apple in her hands. She knew just what to do and she loved it!Josh on the other hand was unsure. In this picture, he seems to be thinking, "Why do my parents always want me to eat fruit? Where are the cookies?"

Your parents want you to eat fruit because they love you and Jane with all their hearts and want you to live long and fruitful lives!

After this healthy moment, we waited in another line of cars to pay for our apples. Well, actually, Jason and the kids waited in the line of cars. I got out and hiked (again) to the bakery. This was the real reason for our excursion. When I arrived, warm cider doughnuts were being placed on the shelves, steaming up their containers and filling the air with a heavenly smell. After deciding that a six pack of doughnuts might not last the car ride home, I reached for a dozen box. After nabbing some scrumptious apple turnovers and a half gallon of cider, I noticed a delicious-looking apple fritter that begged me to take it home. With arms joyfully laden I realized I hadn't gotten any apple cider slush, a truly refreshing treat after all my hard work apple-gathering. I purchased this elixir of the orchard gods and sipped it all the way back to the car. As I passed the cars waiting in line, I couldn't help but notice the looks of longing pointed in my direction. Some tried to appear nonchalant despite the sweet aroma wafting through their open windows. Others were less subtle. One man suggested I sell my provender and another simply held his hand out silently. But I kept my focus and returned to my family bearing gifts. Before we got out of that orchard, three of us (Jane was asleep) had cinnamon and sugar-coated hands and faces. Unfortunately in my excitement I had neglected to grab some napkins, but that's what jeans are for, right?