The first day of fall has come and past. The air is getting colder, the days are getting shorter, and as the leaves begin to turn red, the apples do to.
As I’ve grown older, family traditions have slowly lessened, but apple picking still remains one of them. I still remember my family and I stuffing ourselves into our car early in the morning, after dawning coats for the first time since spring and wiping away the thin layer of frost from the windows. We pulled open big brown paper bags that would soon be overflowing with apples that, for some reason, needed to be picked from the highest branches of the trees.
This year was hardly different. On the opening day of the apple orchard, my parents and I arrived to an already busy parking lot. People bustled between their cars and the trees with bushels and bags of bright red apples. The orchard had half a dozen different kinds, but we’re simple people, and we only went to pick the McIntosh.
After filling our bags, I strolled between the towering trees, plucking the juiciest fruit from the low-hanging branches. I sampled the McIntosh, the Macoun, and, my personal favorite, the Honey Crisp. Apples are easily judged based off how satisfying the snap is when you bite into it.
Aside from strawberries, apples might be my favorite fruit. They’re easy, convenient, versatile, and delicious. You can make them into pie, crisp, or maybe throw some peanut butter on it. The majority of my family’s apples turned into applesauce. Also delicious and can be savored for months to come.
The apple orchard I went to didn’t have corn mazes or hay rides, but it did have bounties of pumpkins and squash, and nothing screams fall time like some gourds. Kids picked out their future jack o’lanterns, while I drooled over the buttercup squash (also a favorite fruit of mine).
Apple picking has always been a necessity for my family and many others. The amount of food you can get at a reasonable price is always worth the trip. But apple picking is not like going to the grocery store. It’s a self-made experience. You pick the fruit you feast on. Maybe it’s being out in nature, or maybe it’s the reminder of our humble beginnings as human beings, but apple picking will continue to hold a special place in my heart… and stomach.
