Okay, I'm a terrible New Englander. Dunkin Donuts isn't my favorite coffee chain, I don't care about the Yankees or Red Sox, and before a few days ago, I'd never been apple picking (which is apparently a rite of passage around here.)
On the last day of the season, 10/31, I headed to Buell's Orchard in Eastford. I wasn't expecting too much, I assumed that most of the apples would have been picked and it wouldn't be very entertaining. There were plenty left, and I picked my very first apples.
We drove up to the general store and paid for bags, then were directed to drive out to the rows of trees. The trees weren't clearly marked so it took a few tries to go down the right sequence of dirt roads to the trees with fruit still, but we eventually made it. The types of apples weren't labeled well either, so I have no idea what I picked, but I don't really mind that. An apple is an apple, right?
Places we've gone, things we've seen, stories worth telling