Apple Picking Time

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Some friends of ours, who also happen to by my grandparent’s neighbors, have about a half a dozen very prolific apple trees in their yard. These are old and gnarly apple trees, but they have remained faithful and prolific for about one hundred years.

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We all went to pick apples together, but Sophie, Kinsley and I all proved to be pretty much useless at the task. Kinsley and Sophie had an excuse (being short, and being babies) but I was just obsessed with taking pictures and keeping the mosquitoes from draining all the life blood from my veins. Sophie at least manages to look charming in her uselessness.

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And really, there was only one apple picker anyway, and Dan got to wield it, which he did with great ease and alacrity.

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I think we left about 72 half eaten apples laying around under the trees by the time we left. (The number 72 may have no bearing on reality, but I did not choose this number randomly. Instead, it was chosen to entertain my nephew Nathan, who has pointed out my obsession with the number 72, on many occasions.)

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Dan picked about two five gallon buckets full, which ended up looking like this. I have been processing apples ever since. Which is another post for another time.

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