There is a farm that we visit every year. The same country store that sells the same snacks and baked goods. The same orchard, the apple trees knotted and twisted but still neatly in a row. We watch the kids take bites out of apples as we pick, fill the bags that are then given to Daddy so that our arms don't fall off, and after we order three hotdogs, one hamburger, and gorge ourselves on apple cider donuts that stick to the roof of our mouths and leave our shirts sparkling with cinnamon and sugar.
We love it and I will miss it.
We've decided that we aren't giving up our September tradition and even though we are skeptical, we figure how can the number one apple producing state let us down, right? Right.
So off we went on a Sunday afternoon, apple picking for the first time in Washington State:
The place was huge, a real attraction with a lot of things to look at. We didn't really explore those areas too much, we wanted to pick our apples and eat lunch so we got on a wagon hitched to the back of a tractor and rode it out to the apple orchard. There we picked Jonagold apples larger than my fists. Sweet and tart the kids did more eating than picking but I didn't mind, I enjoyed twisting them off and placing them in our bag.
We picked a little under 20lbs of apples that I happily took home, peeled, and put in a crockpot to make apple sauce. The rest of them are waiting on more jars so that I can make apple pie filling.
