We did it again.
We showed up to the orchard in hopes of picking apples in peace, away from the weekend crowds. And guess what?
.
This is a picture of a lonely boy, contemplating trees stripped bare of fruit.
The whole dang town had picked the orchard clean the weekend before, and the season was over.
Like my life.
Over.
I’m such a horrible mom.
I can’t even take my kids apple picking. But there’s one thing I can do. I can take pictures. Want to see?
.
Farmer John.
We had the place to ourselves, so why not lean against the tractor they had used to cultivate the orchard that betrayed us?
.
Why not stage a shot at the diesel pump that fills the tractor that they had used to take our apples?
.
This is waaay better than Honey Crisp, Red Delicious, and Macintosh, isn’t it Tristan?
.
We left empty handed. The apple guy told us that 11,000 people had visited the orchard this season. Eleven thousand?! Egads. I’m kind of glad we missed out on that after all.
We ended up with these pics, and a couple of bags from the store.
I could have had pies, but now I’ve got pies and pictures.
Yum.
