…There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall.
That struck the Earth,
No matter if not bruised or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap…
– After Apple-Picking by Robert Frost
Perhaps the calendar marked the first day of fall sometimes last week, but it’s not officially autumn for this family until an apple-picking adventure. It’s always a blessing to break away from the city, but especially so when a bounty is involved. And handcrafted donuts to top it off.
The road winding around the orchard is familiar to Jonathan, as it’s very popular with cyclists. So of course he acted as our sudo tour-guide, sharing the best spot for sweet treats and taking us along the back roads that follow the Hudson. We couldn’t have asked for better weather. Nothing but blue skies as far as the eye could see. At one point, our little boy was sunbathing with nothing but training-pants and a smile. I only wished I’d brought a blanket, because it’s certainly a full-time job trying to keep the little man from eating grass, and dirt, and rocks, and leaves. Basically everything but the abundance of fruit that littered the fields and trees. That is, unless we count the extremely rotten apple that landed in his jaw for about two seconds before I swiped it and sent it flying through field. I’m all about letting him learn on his own, but my goodness, does he really have to try the most inedible items around?
It’s time we settle on what we’re going to make with our half bushel. Certainly one birthday pie for the young uncle is due and then maybe cider. Rivers is hinting to it. His interest in apples peaked considerably once we returned home. Half the bag was tossed across the kitchen floor within the first ten minutes.
I can only smile. So much for avoiding all the bruised ones.