Just mentioning the word conjures up images of autumn for me. I know, I know, these days you can buy apples at the grocery store year round (much like any other fruit), but you gotta admit, there's something incomparable about plucking a fat, shiny apple straight off its heavy branch, right around this time of year when they're at their peak, with that fresh crisp snap when you first bite into it, followed by that juicy softness that's both sweet and tart at once.
Your mouth is watering, isn't it?
For me, there's a kind of romance in apple-picking. It makes me nostalgic. Apple orchards make me want to wear long skirts and sweep my hair up into a messy bun. They make me want to write. I guess you could say they bring out the "Anne Shirley" in me. (Speaking of which, don't these paintings, created by artist Patti Banister, remind you of Anne of Green Gables? Picking apples with Catherine... then making an apple pie...)
Anyway, I always jump at the chance to visit an apple orchard, and I got my opportunity last weekend. Windy Hill, a local orchard and cider mill, held their annual apple festival, which a group of us try to attend every year.
It was awesome.
The apples were crisp, juicy, and filled the air with sweetness.
They had set up several wooden bins with multiple varieties for purchase, both red and green.
And of course there were apple goodies, too, like cider, apple butter, and caramel apples - of which you better believe we partook.
Stephen continued to enjoy his caramel apple even after he found a worm in it...
...although his wife Erica didn't quite share his sense of amnesty.
It was so much fun. There was entertainment, too.
In the form of music...
... cooking demonstrations...
... and farm animals.
(Notice the shirt.)
Yes, a good time was had by all.
And I was inspired to bake an apple pandowdy!
Let me know if you want the recipe!
(Comment box in the left tab bar.)
~Can you tell I'm trying to get you guys to use that thing?~