Picking the Perfect Apples.

This past weekend I went apple picking for the first time. I don't know why I've never been apple picking before. Maybe because there aren't apple orchards down in Georgia? But that doesn't make sense because I spent a good portion of my child hood in Northern states. Hmmm. Hello, mom? Why was I deprived of this glorious experience? 

Anyway, we set out on our adventure with good friends Carla & Tyler and Mike & Christina. Plus their little one who we shall now refer to as Little Miss Queen of the Apples. Most of our fellow apple pickers were families with multiple kids so at first appearances we were a bit of the odd men out.

Fortunately, we had a really cute kid with us.

And a very pregnant Carla. 

Plus, The Canadian was up to his usual antics so we looked legit.

 

The orchard was filled with tons of apples. There were two types -- Courtland and MacIntosh.





Courtland apples are better for cooking so Carla was gung-ho to fill her bag with them. I think she's got applesauce on the brain. Or apple juice. Or maybe apple pie.

I'm in no way shape or form and apple lover, but holy moose the MacIntosh were delicious. We pretty much ate our way through the orchard.

I was busy taking photos but I did manage to pick a few apples too. Unfortunately, The Canadian declared himself the Emporer of Appleville. Along with his title also comes the power to veto any apple he doesn't deem acceptable. After his careful inspections, most of my chosen apples ended up on the ground for inadequacies such as dullness, deformity, bruising, or a bad stem. You think I'm kidding. The man was a tyrant.

I'm mean, seriously, what is wrong with this beauty?

I don't know why he has got to be so damn picky.

Whatever...I did manage to grab one and eat it before he noticed its shortcomings.

Little Miss didn't have any problems finding good apples. The Canadian didn't throw any of her apples on the ground. He even complimented her choices.

Not that she needed his approval.

That girl was putting back apples like it was nobody's business.

I pity the fool that tries to steal her apple.

Ummm...my apple is so yummy.

Do you want to try a bite? 

No? Okay then. I'll just keep on pluggin' away. Hey, do you know if we get to go on a tractor ride again?

Somehow, The Canadian did manage to fill our bag with "perfect" apples. Thank God for that. Can you imagine how catastrophic it would be if a sub-par apple had found it's way into our house? Disaster, I tell you.

In fact, I think we all walked away with bags full of perfect apples. Minus the twenty that were in our bellies. 

So, now I'm stuck with 8 million apples that I have to do something with. I know I could make applesauce, apple pie, apple jam, apple crisps or anything else that starts with apple. But here's the problem; I don't like apple anything. I just like plain old, natural, boring apples. 

If you need me, I'll be stuffing my face with apples.

Peace out.