Turn, Turn, Turn: Apple Picking at Gizdich Ranch

Dearest Daughters,

I went apple picking for the first time my senior year of college.

It was so very New England.

I had Saddy Saturn out East with me, so Auntie Ninang Katherine and I hopped in the car one Saturday and picked some apples at a farm down the road from Wellesley.

At least, I think we picked apples. I mostly just remember a train ride. And being scolded by Auntie Ninang Katherine for sticking my arms outside of the train.

I wasn't drunk or anything.

Really, I promise.

I just can't remember real good.

I didn't know what Fall was until I moved to New England. And it was beautiful for a second, then it got all slippery-decomposing-leaves-on-the-ground and grey, dying depressing.

I much preferred Spring. And that, too, I learned the true meaning of in New England where it was such a beautiful relief and show of God's renewing grace after the Worst Season Ever: Winter.

I am a California girl. And now that I'm comfortably back in my temperate climate, I can glorify and wax nostalgic about the Fall.

It's still seventy degrees outside, but I'm pretending it's Fall.

It occurred to me last fall that maybe they grow apples in California too.

So, I did a little Internet searchy search and both you girls, Daddy and I went apple picking.

That's all to say that I never wrote a post about our trip and the unprocessed photos from that trip have been sitting in a file on my desktop since Forever. Not really. I hyperbolize, obviously. Since, say, give or take, last Fall.

Here some are now:

Oh, the seasons. They do change. Are a changin'. Whatever.

My babies be gettin big:

September 2011

September 2012

And... scene.

Back to the present.

Last week, having fired myself from my Monday/Wednesday day job at the school, I found myself returning to my Tuesdays and Thursdays of self-care and RRR (relaxation routines and rituals) instead of Crazy Errand and Household Running. This is a lot of Days of The Week Talk. I don't expect you to follow it all.

Suffice it to say, my Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays were reclaimed as days to spend (in a better mind-heart-body-state) with my DDs, doing our routine thing. That is: morning outing, lunch, nap, snack, "watching stories"/cooking dinner, dinner, bath, books, bed! Amen.

So, last Monday I had the bright idea... yes, I'm finally getting to the point... to go apple picking again.

Like: a tradition or something! Crazy idea. I astound myself sometimes.

Except Daddy had to work. Because that's what he does on Mondays. And we missed him, but going on a Monday was waaaay nicer (that is, less busy) than going on a weekend like we did last year.

And this year, we brought Lola and Lolopop along to Gizdich Ranch in Watsonville, CA (about a one and a half hour drive from home).

Golden Delicious-es. Oh, and the apples too.

Last year we "accidentally" picked thirty pounds out of excitement. And then had to process all that apple. This year I let the girls do most of the picking. Grand total: seventeen pounds. We'll put up applesauce again. But, we'll also try fruit leather. And try to just freeze some chopped apples for pies later on.

Wearing the sweater I knit her, even though she doesn't like it, because I convinced her it was a "Fall Apple Picking Sweater."

My favorite part of the day: Lola telling the girls about the back-breaking work of picking strawberries and her wormy/snakey work on a tomato harvester as a youth. "Go to college," she says. And "thank you farmworkers," we said as we drove past all manner of working fields.