A Bag of Apples and a Dash of Courage

Soooo… sometimes I'm reminded that the smaller, less momentous occasions in life need to be celebrated in their own small ways. Take, for example, this past weekend's little to-do our family experienced.

The kids and I awoke to a perfect, sunny, 60° fall day. My husband had already left to run a community football program, so we agreed to meet him for lunch at the apple orchard. Haralsons are in season and the kids were eager to have another go at apple picking.

Ten minutes into our visit to the apple lodge, my daughter left my side at the maple syrup and candy shelves, where I was crouched next to her little brother, to take a peek at the caramel apples. Except that's not where she went. Enticed by the apple sample table, she decided a nice slice of an Empire was in order. I hadn't yet noticed that she had left my side when she rushed up to me, in a panic, clutching her finger. She certainly sliced something – but it wasn't the Empire.

A family fun day trip to the apple orchard shouldn't be capped off with a frenzied drive to the ER. But, life being unpredictable and all, that's exactly where the four of us sat. This was my daughter's first foray into the realm of stitches, and she wanted mom to sit right next to her on the gurney in the exam room. Now, historically, these things make me awfully woozy. But, since it wouldn't do to have both of us crying and cringing, I had no choice but to toughen up a bit.

I don't particularly relish having to physically restrain my kids when they're hurt and scared, but luckily for me, the promise of a new Barbie doll if she was brave and stopped crying did the trick, and she settled down enough for the doctor to proceed with the Novocain. Hey, bribery is certainly not beneath me in these instances, and I do believe anyone who endures having the side of his or her finger sewn back on surely deserves a shiny new toy.

When the ordeal was over, the nurse enthused that she now had "kitty whiskers" in her finger, just like her beloved orange tabby at home. She smiled a bit through her tear-pooled eyes. Once bandaged up, she was eager to stop at the store for her new Barbie. This, of course, had my five-year-old informing me that, "It's not fair! Why should she get a toy? Can't I get one too?" Dad informed him he could absolutely get a new toy – all he had to do was first get a couple shots and then some stitches. Apparently he didn't want Legos quite that badly.

These moments are tough for parents, and make your heart ache for your child. I hate needles and I hate getting stitches even more, but I would have volunteered without a thought if I could have taken her place. But they're important life lessons for kids, too. She made it through her first laceration, and proved to be a brave little girl.

On the drive home, she perked up a bit. "Mommy," she asked, "do you think we could go back to the apple orchard and pick some apples?" Absolutely! A half an hour later, perched atop dad's shoulders, she was reaching for great big red Haralsons high on the boughs.

Among the big things in life – birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, etc. – there are the everyday moments that help shape us and teach us new things about ourselves. Going through a scary and painful "first" and coming out of it brave enough to head back and finish the day – now that's a little life lesson worth celebrating.

Apple Picking!

If you hadn't noticed, apple harvest time is here!

I'm pretty finicky when it comes to apples and their many varieties. I get that from my mother, who got if from her mother before her. I would imagine even my great-grandmother had a propensity toward carefully selecting a half peck of Jonathans, Haralsons or Wealthys for use in apple pie baking, saving the softer Cortlands and McIntosh for the countless quarts of applesauce she surely canned. Truth be told, I was into my college years before a good friend and classmate clued me in that the world would not, in fact, stop spinning should you opt to cut up a bag of Red Delicious apples for pies. Gasp! Surely no one told her those are better left for eating out of hand!

And so it is that every fall my husband and I make our way to the very same apple orchard we've visited for going on our seventeenth harvest season together to bounce along in the wagon ride which pulls us back to the farther corners of the apple orchard where we pick bags full of ripe, deliciously aromatic apples to take home, wash, and cut up for the season's run of pies, crisps, cobblers, strudels, sauces and cakes. No, this isn't the only time of the year that I utilize apples in my kitchen, but it's the best time!

While my son still frowns at eating fruits of any and all varieties, my daughter loves apples. The girl makes this mom proud with the efficiency with which she bites and nibbles neatly down to the core. She's partial to Fuji and Braeburn, but has been known to bite into a tart Granny Smith when that's all that's left in the crisper basket in the fridge. Since her first apple picking experience at the age of five months, our annual fall trip to the apple orchard has been an autumn activity she eagerly looks forward to with fervent anticipation of being perched atop dad's shoulders to reach the good ones. As she is now at the age of seven, she's had to give up her spot to her little brother. This means I will be called upon to hoist her up from time to time to pluck a perfect pomme from the overloaded bough.

After a thoroughly enjoyable time in the petting zoo, we decide it's time to get to pickin'. "Mommy, can we pick Paula Reds this year?" my daughter asks as she pitches and sways gently next to me on the rumbling wagon ride through the orchard. "And how 'bout Zestar!, mommy. Can we try some of those?" This makes me squirm just a tad. I'm a creature of habit. Tried and true is my motto when it comes to apple picking, and some of the newer apple hybrids make me wonder how many varieties are really necessary. There are already thousands! There's nothing at all wrong with a good old McIntosh, I think to myself. At times like these I have to remind myself that change can be okay, and that the Red Delicious apple pie didn't poison me one bit. Perhaps I'll find a new favorite?

But as I'm mulling over new apple varieties like MN 1734 and New York 2, my husband beats me to answering our daughter. "Sure! Let's try something new!" he heartily proclaims. And so we are deposited under a red embossed street sign planted firmly in the earth that reads "PAULA RED." For a moment, I feel as if I'm disembarking a Greyhound Bus in a strange city. This is new territory for me.

But it's all about the kids, right? So here's to new adventures, folks! I'll keep you posted on how these beauties cook up. In the meantime, get out there and enjoy a day in an orchard.

Fall Hayrides – A Rambling Ride Through the Colors

 

What better way to revel in fall's wondrous display of colors and brisk weather than to wend your way through the woods perched atop a hay bale on the back of a wagon? Now that's fall!

Having spent a good number of my childhood afternoons amid the wooded acres of my grandparents' farm, it simply doesn't feel like fall for me until I partake in a seasonal hayride. Of course, those rambling rides of my youth usually entailed chugging past the cornfields, over the hills and down into a valley adjacent to the wooded fence line to forage for hickory nuts underneath a canopy of brilliant yellows and rusty reds. Once my grandmother and I had filled our pails, buckets and bushel barrels with those meaty little nuts, we'd climb back into the wagon, sit atop our wobbly bales and enjoy the autumn afternoon as my grandpa pulled us back home behind the tractor.

My introduction to fall hayrides may have been simple transportation to and from one of nature's generous little food supplies, but the beauty and simplicity of those rides wasn't lost on me. When my kids were younger, I decided it simply wouldn't do to find the winter winds descending upon us without having taken time out for a fall hayride. As luck would have it, a large regional park/nature reserve in the area was not only home to acres upon acres of wooded splendor, but was also open for business for those looking to hire a hay wagon. This would be a perfect family activity, I decided!

We gathered the extended family one Saturday afternoon in late October and clambered atop bales stacked on a large flatbed wagon. Imagine the kids' delight when they discovered that this ride would not be powered by a pickup or a tractor, but two gentle giant draft horses! Some coaxing was needed to convince the kids to leave the horses be and climb up on the wagon.

A two-hour ride through woodlands and fields was just enough time for children of all ages to jump and play in the loose hay before snuggling down into their parents' straw- and hay-covered laps as the day grew cooler. The afternoon sun illuminated the hues of the season, setting the leaves ablaze in autumn tones of reds, oranges, coppers, yellows and golds. I sat back, my three-year-old daughter in my lap, thinking that fall drives are heavenly, but you miss out on the fresh, cool air in your face and the squirmy, giggling straw-covered urchin in your lap.

When the horses finally pulled the wagon to a gentle, swaying stop, kids and adults jumped down, brushed themselves free of straw and chaff, and ambled toward the picnic area where a bonfire and hotdog roasting sticks were at the ready. The hot mulled apple cider that awaited us helped ward off the chill in the air as my husband and I helped the kids hold their hotdogs over the flames. Later, after a potluck supper, the marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers were brought out – a perfect ending to a perfect day. Ooey-gooey s'mores and hot chocolate as the sun set on a lovely fall day.

Don't let this fall escape without finding an apple orchard, park or farm to partake in a fall hayride.