Happy Monday Readers,
Did you have a nice weekend? I did. It was the perfect weather for a weekend, don’t you think? Hot enough to be outside and enjoy the sun, cool enough to do so without dripping sweat from your back (or having to walk behind people with back sweat which is like, one of my biggest pet peeves ever.)
My husband and I are like, obsessed with the Fall- ok, I just am, he likes it, I live for it. I basically want to spend all of my time doing fall related activities. I want to swim in a sea of cider, frolic in changing leaves and snuggle into warm cotton sweaters. Sure I hate pumpkin flavored things and wool, but I don’t think that makes me the anti-Fall.
This Sunday, we had plans. Big plans. Apple picking kind of plans followed by 17 downloaded recipes on how to make everything in the world with apples including but limited to apple bourbon (that’s grown up apple cooking). We also had plans to hang with some friends and their daughter while apple picking. If I can bring a kid with me to a farm, it is way better for me. as I have mentioned before in posts, there is just something weird about playing on the jungle gym as a 31 year old with no kid- like going to Chuckie Cheese, but a little less creepy. With a kid, I can be free to pet the farm animals, play on the swings, enjoy the hay maze- it is a smorgasbord of fun without any hint of me being a super weird creep show.
In the AM, our friends, their kid and my dreams of feeding the goats left without us which brings me to my first point of today- why do people with kids not want to hang out with us? I honestly find it weird that my friends and people I know with kids don’t want to hang out with us- like, what? Am I getting fucked up before my trip to the apple farm? Will I not get to bring a flask of rum and coke to drink if your kid is there? Would I EVER do that anyways? All I can tell you is that the few parents we know that have encouraged a relationship between myself and their kid will reap the benefits one day when I am a parent. You know I’m going to throw the best birthday parties ever.
But hey, we are nothing if not excitable and resourceful so with apples in mind we decided to go picking anyways. The farm, like most, was 45 minutes outside of Toronto. Apple farms are basically the only time ever in my life that I wish I lived up North. It would be awesome if they took 10 minutes to get to but I guess for the one time per year I go I would basically be giving up everything I love about my life- ok, I take it back....
So we do the drive because not only are we hankering for apples, but my sister in law and nephews are also coming to this orchard so we are excited at the idea of apple picking and getting to hang with our family! This makes the drive up easy. We arrive at 1015. Obviously the orchard doesn’t take visa because it is not Chudleighs and is just like, one poor girl sitting there looking at us like we are complete morons for even suggesting that they would have some wireless payment contraption in the middle of a fucking field. She tells us we can go to the store, buy something and do cash back. Ok
So this farm is actually HUGE and much to my delight, is full of the coolest activities that I can actually do once my nephew is there- a train, a zip line, a maze- I was beyond excited at the possibilities.
It took us a while to get to their store which sold the following; pie. Considering I ate a full tub of butter last week on the vineyard, a pie was like, the last possible thing I wanted to purchase- I found pickles on a shelf and even though they were 8 fucking dollars for a small jar of pickles, I figured it was worth the extra calories to save myself the pie. 8 dollars and pickles to get some money to pick some apples. By now it was 10:45.
Back to the orchard, we get a bag for apples and make our way to the “orchard”. Now, I use quotation marks because to me, an orchard is a vast expanse filled with ruby red apples glistening on the tree tops. This was 9 rows of 10 trees with maybe 1 apple per tree rotting on the top branch. How on earth can you fill a bag with no apples. It is now 11. We shamefully refund our money and sulk over to the parking lot. At this point we have to head back to the city on 45 minutes, there are no apples, we don’t want pie and there is nothing else that 2 grown ups can do in this whole place that wont make people think we are pedophiles.
By then I had to pee- obviously, porta potty options only.
We left at 11:30 as our fam arrived for their day of fun.
Here’s a little tidbit of advice- if you want to go apple picking, don’t go to a farm that doesn’t have apples. If you want to be able to play in farms, find friends who like when you hang out with them and their kids and if you only have a 2 hour window, don’t bother driving up north.
Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was amazing making up for this super Sunday AM bust.
Happy Fall frolicking.
J
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