The Quest for the Perfect Orchard

Today my lil' sis and I packed up our hooligan offspring and set off in search of a good apple orchard. (With a few thrift store stops along the way, of course...) The first orchard we stopped at had ceased from letting people pick their own for the season. Which I found completely confusing, seeing how there were still a bazillion ripe apples still on the trees. Each to their own, though, I say. We were really looking forward to hand selecting and picking our very own, so we continued on in our search for another orchard. Preferably one that would let us do the pickin' and packin'. My sister found several parcels of property with apples trees on them, but I informed her it was rude to pick other people's apples without their consent. I thought she should know these things. And since I'm the master, and she's only a grasshopper, she agreed.

Thankfully we stumbled upon one last orchard on the way home. To my relief they had a "Pick your own apples here, Today!" sign. I squealed in delight. (Which made the baby scared.) I was a bit taken back though, when we were told we had to drive two streets down, go to the end of the road and a man in the orchard would meet us. At that point we were a bit leery concerning what we were getting ourselves into. However, we were desperate for freshly picked apples. After a long drive down a far too skinny dirt road, we were greeted by one of the most beautiful, most serene apple orchards ever. Rows upon rows of fragrant, juicy apples. I know it sounds odd to describe an orchard that way, but it was just simply gorgeous. And the day couldn't have been more perfect to pick a pail of apples. Which is just what we did. Two pails of macs, in fact. We had the entire orchard completely to ourselves. Just how I like it.