I don’t know why I keep going apple picking. I think I’m just a fall activities addict and I get lured in with the smell of cider and the possibility of bringing home a big bag of bruised apples.
Yes, we went again.
On the upside, Harlowe did not get hit by any flying apples.
On the downside, this was the line for donuts.
The crowds were insane. The lines were so long, we couldn’t buy donuts or pie or popcorn.
When the girls got hungry, they actually had to eat apples. It was horrifying.
We even had to park illegally just to get into the orchard. We parked in a church parking lot which Rick felt a little nervous about (being a Jew and all). But I promised him that no one gets punished for loving produce. God would protect our minivan while we picked apples.
And I can now add apple orchard to the list of places that I’ve changed a baby…
But after a disturbing trip to the less than clean port-a-potties, I declared that I was never coming back to this orchard.
Rick suggested I write a complaint letter.
I suggested we just buy our apples from the local farmer’s market or Stop & Shop.
That’s code for… I’ll see you back at the orchard next year!