We ventured south to the apple orchard outside the Big City of Lubbock, Texas to pick several pounds of pink ladies and (a tasty variant we just discovered this year) Arkansas Blacks. One of the bonuses of picking your own apples is that you can eat as many apples as you want while you're out with your bucket, and since the orchard controls all pests naturally, you don't have to wash off your apples before you eat them.
It's a little tricky to find perfect apples, but it's not so hard to find apples that slight flaws but are otherwise just as tasty as the perfect and happily genetically modified ones you find at the grocery store. We ate plenty of apples and, perfect for the kids, just dropped their cores on the ground when we finished (the orchard lets all apples stay where they fall; apparently rotten apples make for good fertilizer - and there's just something special about that rotten apple smell).
During our trip, I noticed Megan was busy holding a piece of paper against the van's window. She didn't want to show me at first, but then she spilled the beans. This is what she was showing to everyone we passed on the road: "Help! I've been kidnapped. Call the police! 911."
Wiseguy!
They're called fluffer-nutter sandwiches!
Posted by: Karen (sister-in-law) | November 14, 2006 at 09:19 PM
Love that Megan.
Posted by: Poppy | November 16, 2006 at 12:54 PM