For reasons known only to him, my father finds the concept of picking apples to be very comical. Every fall, my husband and daughter and I head to a local orchard to pick apples. I am pretty sure we are not the only ones to do this. It seems to me like a common autumn-type excursion. Last year, my daughter took a photo of me and her dad next to an apple tree, and I posted it on Facebook. My dad has been calling us "the apple pickers" since then. Over the summer, he shared our orchard photo on Facebook right before we drove out to Maryland to visit him. "The apple pickers are on their way," he wrote.
I knew we were going to pick apples last Saturday so I gave him a heads-up ahead of time. "Those apples won't pick themselves," he told me. And then added: "be sure to wear your official apple picking outfits." There were so many people at the orchard that they had a team of six people who had the sole function of parking cars. Apple pickers as far as the eye could see!
So here they are, our orchard photos. We picked several varieties of apples this year - it seemed to be a good year for the crop. I buy apples just to eat but my husband prefers to have them baked into something much sweeter and more fattening. So, I will be making an apple crisp for him shortly. As for the kid, we have an understanding of sorts. I put an an apple in her lunch as a healthy snack. She throws it away and says she ate it. It's a win-win.