apple picking

If you live on the East Coast, it turns out that in the fall you must go apple picking. Last year we refused to go as we found the idea of paying to pick apples absolutely ridiculous. David spent most falls during his childhood picking apples as a slave. I remember picking loads of apples at my grandparents house to press and make into apple cider. We decided we should go for the kids. Basically, we sold out. I found an orchard about an hour and a half away where you only pay for what you pick rather than paying per person for a small bag of apples and the carnival atmosphere that often goes hand-in-hand with the apple picking experience. The drive was glorious with the leaves changing and in every imaginable fall color. Sarah loved the apple picking. It's all about the lift, twist, pull action. She also didn't mind her dad lifting her up into the trees to pick them. I'm not sure he was quite as excited about the lifting as she was. Zach loved the apple eating and eating and eating. The apple pie wasn't bad either. Nor was the apple crisp, apple slices, caramel apple slices, baked apples, or applesauce. It turns out apple picking wasn't such a bad idea after all.