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