Hartland Orchard

Today,  I headed to Markum, VA - not exactly close but not exactly far - for an apple picking experience I'd been deprived of my entire life. This is a true shame, Mom and Pops.

From my garden experience this past summer, I knew just how fun it was to eat the fruit of my labor. The fruits of labor are especially sweet when it's someone else's labor. The picking selections were slim. I guess hardcore apple pickers get to the crop before fall weather reaches perfection, as it was on this particular day. Anyway, after picking--and then feeding millions of (rotten) apples to cows, we hand selected a bushel of pre-picked apples to bring home. Probably more than a bushel.

There was fresh cider. Like a grandfather and grandson grinding apples into some apple sauce resembling mash right in front of me with what looked to be a hydraulic juicer. So we're talking very fresh. If I hadn't been tarnished by Crescent Ridge, some best-of-the-best farm outside of Boston, MA, this would have qualified as the most delicious cup of cider in my life.  But alas, Crescent Ridge outdid themselves, unfairly ruining my appetite for chocolate milk, cider, and apparently soon--egg nog, elsewhere. It seems I'm left to settling for second best cider from Hartland Orchard here in Virginia. Boyfriend and I splurged for a gallon. And pretty much devoured the entire thing on Sunday night.

There were also fresh carmel apples for purchase. I opted to have mine dipped in nuts though I'm normally against tainting desserts with nuts. After watching A.J.S. make that wise decision, I was sold. Those peanuts were the glue that kept the carmel wrapped around my apple, instead of my fabulous new jacket.

There was also honey. And apple butter.

Then, perhaps best of all - a pumpkin patch. And sugar-coated donuts.

So wholesome and fun. And now an annual tradition.