Apples picked. Pumpkins patched.

This last weekend was the Washington, D.C. area''s first fall-like weekend. The mornings were crisp with an almost winter scent. As the days wore on and the sun to rose, the earth was heated to give us comfortable, warm afternoons. And with that, Boyfriend and I partook in the quintessential fall activity: apple picking. I have only picked apples two other times in my life, and the first time, I don’t actually remember picking a whole lot of apples from trees so much as purchasing pre-picked apples from barrels. Regardless, visiting apple orchards has recently become the thing I look forward to most about fall, more so than even football and pumpkin-spiced everything. With at least eight varieties to pick from, caramel apple rewards, and cider - heavenly cider - it's hard not to anticipate this outing. 

Is it gorgeous everywhere apples grow?

We’ve found our apple picking home at Hartland Orchard, in the not so distant Markham, Virginia, where the trees are already turning. And the drive there is littered with fall colors, which is simply delightful.

We couldn't leave without bringing home our pumpkin, from the conveniently attached patch. This year there wasn’t a bad pumpkin in sight, which made it tough to find a pumpkin with the character, necessary in the likely event our pumpkin is gutted for seeds and left uncarved; he needs to stand alone.

It’s actually fun to pluck the perfect apple from each tree (and a pumpkin from the patch). All the while dreaming of the delicious goods that will come. We brought home a bushel of apples, a gallon and a half of cider, and a pumpkin for seeding. The caramel apples didn't survive the trip out of the parking lot. We demolished them while an elderly man and his grandson pressed apples into our cider. Since this weekend, I’ve made a delicious apple fritter cake and a batch of applesauce. I've also consumed a good many apples smothered in almond butter.

An apple a day keeps the doctor at bay.