wherein there are apples to be picked. sorta.

3 Oct

The other weekend Swede and I headed out to the apple orchard with my Sister #1 and brother-in-law, and their babies. Well, I guess at almost three years Chicken Nugget isn’t so much a baby anymore, BUT HE’LL ALWAYS BE MY BABY NEPHEW <SOB>. And Ronnie Bass, well, yes, he is still a baby, one who was completely bored by apple picking. He was all, “Ho, hum, I’ll just hang here in my Bjorn while you fools blabber on about all the apple sauce you’re going to make and other such stuff an nonsense*.”

Not that I can blame him. Due to the drought this year, the apple crop has not been bountiful.

But! That doesn’t mean that orchards don’t want your business. They do! Very much so! So much, in fact, that they will go to great lengths to get you to come and “pick” apples, though there aren’t really any apples to pick.

Instead, they provide you with hand-stocked apple gutters:



Can someone please get me a Farmer’s Almanac? I want to see what it says about next year, or if I should just give up hope of ever again eating a honeycrisp that doesn’t cost the same amount as a gold nugget.

*Oh, Ronnie Bass, how much you have to learn about your mother, canner extraordinaire. You’ll be eating this season’s apples for the next six months once she gets her hands on them and purees them into delicious mush. Have you not seen the three-deep shelves of pickled green beans in your own basement?


One Response to “wherein there are apples to be picked. sorta.”

  1. Stephanie Y. October 4, 2012 at 12:16 PM #

    The apples in the gutter thing is both cute and sad.

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