We almost didn't make it this year... as that flu I mentioned the boys having finally hit me, and I probably should have stayed in bed. Poor Eldest was distraught -- what could I do? The unthinkable. I drugged myself. My kind neighbor had just the thing. And then I prayed the whole way there... and back.
The boys and their friends picked apples... Jonagolds and Empires... and helped Mr. Pulford sort them by size... and ate as many as their tummies could handle.
And had a sweet, crunchy, good time.
To Autumn, by John Keats
Season of mists and mellow
fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells...
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells...
P.S. Gratefully, I took a good long nap when we got home, and have been fine ever since!
Hooray! We are going in October. I can't wait for all those yummy apples.
ReplyDeleteI love it. We have pick your own blueberries, strawberries, and peaches but no apples. Lovely pictures.
ReplyDeleteoh! I'm glad you're feeling better!
ReplyDeleteWish we had apples to pick here. That's one of my favorites!