apple picking
We go apple picking every year.
We trudge up, 2 hours or more, to the mountains, and enjoy the views and the foliage and the crisp autumn air. We brave traffic and an even longer ride home with our apples in tow. They seem fresher and more crisp and delicious than those we buy at the supermarket.
In recent years, my apple-picking group has been less enthusiastic. This year, everyone was busy with something else as apple season rapidly drew to a close.
And so, last Saturday, Youngest was planning to spend the day with friends, Middle was going into town and Oldest and K were off to work (in different places) when my mom and I had made plans to PICK APPLES, DAMN IT.
As everyone bailed out on me, I realized that there must be a closer, easier place to harvest apples and, armed with internet information, I planned a trip to a much closer orchard.
Mom and I set off, after dropping Middle off at the train station, for apple picking near the sea.
We had an easy drive - much shorter than usual, filled with comfortable conversation, and arrived at a gorgeous ocean-side town. There, amidst tall privet hedges and gorgeous shingled homes, we followed the signs to the farm.
Under puffy clouds and clear sunshine, in a stiff cool sea breeze, we picked apples.
The trees were dwarf apple trees - no stretching or stumbling.
The farm was picturesque in a different way than the one we visit in the mountains.
But the apples were just as beautiful and even more abundant.
Mom and I strolled through the rows of apples. There were a few other families there, but it wasn't crowded, and staff members were always nearby to discuss the merits of each apple and where to find them.
The walkways were wide and beautifully cared for.
It was less of a working farm than the one in the mountains, and idyllic in a different way.
After a short time we had picked what we wanted.
Mom treated me to the finest turkey club sandwich (the perfect mix! turkey! bacon! lettuce!) at a local diner.
It wasn't an arduous drive home, in fact, it was relaxing.
So, if anyone is interested next year, I think we have a new apple-picking destination.
We trudge up, 2 hours or more, to the mountains, and enjoy the views and the foliage and the crisp autumn air. We brave traffic and an even longer ride home with our apples in tow. They seem fresher and more crisp and delicious than those we buy at the supermarket.
In recent years, my apple-picking group has been less enthusiastic. This year, everyone was busy with something else as apple season rapidly drew to a close.
And so, last Saturday, Youngest was planning to spend the day with friends, Middle was going into town and Oldest and K were off to work (in different places) when my mom and I had made plans to PICK APPLES, DAMN IT.
As everyone bailed out on me, I realized that there must be a closer, easier place to harvest apples and, armed with internet information, I planned a trip to a much closer orchard.
Mom and I set off, after dropping Middle off at the train station, for apple picking near the sea.
We had an easy drive - much shorter than usual, filled with comfortable conversation, and arrived at a gorgeous ocean-side town. There, amidst tall privet hedges and gorgeous shingled homes, we followed the signs to the farm.
Under puffy clouds and clear sunshine, in a stiff cool sea breeze, we picked apples.
The trees were dwarf apple trees - no stretching or stumbling.
The farm was picturesque in a different way than the one we visit in the mountains.
But the apples were just as beautiful and even more abundant.
Mom and I strolled through the rows of apples. There were a few other families there, but it wasn't crowded, and staff members were always nearby to discuss the merits of each apple and where to find them.
The walkways were wide and beautifully cared for.
It was less of a working farm than the one in the mountains, and idyllic in a different way.
After a short time we had picked what we wanted.
Mom treated me to the finest turkey club sandwich (the perfect mix! turkey! bacon! lettuce!) at a local diner.
It wasn't an arduous drive home, in fact, it was relaxing.
So, if anyone is interested next year, I think we have a new apple-picking destination.
Comments
And I see that Mother Blackbird is wearing all black. I can only conclude that she's extremely hip.
How about now?
Now?
(What? It needed to be said.)
Your mom looks so chic in her apple picking outfit.
Now you will have to show us what you make with your abundant apple supply.
There's a name for the way those trees have been trained, but I can't think of it at the moment (it's French, though).
Espalier is the horticultural technique of training trees through pruning and grafting in order to create formal "two-dimensional" or single plane patterns (according to wikipedia)
:)
The good news is: these particular apple farmers will have a comfortable retirement.
Ann
Dammit, woman, the suspense!
-J.
What are you planning on doing with those apples? If you have 12 bushel, I have an apple butter recipe for you...
That the trees have been trelised is delicious in itself (hahaha geddit, delicious... oh nevermind)
I recall some other event you went to with your Mum and she was impeccably (if not over) dressed. But I'm with BabBab - I'd be known by your Mum as 'that loud friend' the one who always looks like the wreck of the Hesperus with all those children.
I hope you're making pie
or apple crumble
or an apple cobbler
or stuffed baked apples
or sauteed apples w/ turkey of some description
or...
xK
(I'm so glad you had this time and one day, one year I will come apple picking with you.)
Well, enjoy your apples, I have to go now.
But please, come see us again.
Hmm- maybe she should get together with my mom for shopping....
-Homer Simpson