Last Saturday me and a few friends from work journeyed upstate for a day of apple picking, apple-cider-donut eating, and fancy Iberico-ham-and-Manchego-cheese-plus-red-wine picnicking. Narrow, winding roads, canopied with leaves of red, yellow, and orange, nestled around charming, picturesque homes that we instantly dreamed were ours, filled our peripherals. We pulled up to Wilkens Fruit & Fir Farm, only to roll the windows down and take in the sweet scent of warm apple cinnamon wafting from the bakeshop and into our noses. It was a fine, fine day for the senses.
Getting up there was a feat. The other journeyers drove, while I took the Metro North due to unforeseen LIRR cancellations and mad dashes from Penn Station to Grand Central in what I had hoped to take 13 minutes or less. It took 13 minutes and 34 seconds. It's an unfortunate moment when you witness the train pulling out of the station as you're approaching the platform feeling short of breath and at that point, hopeless. And so naturally, as I waited for the next train out to Croton-Harmon, I people-watched at one of the best places to partake in such an activity. I secretly hoped for a flash mob to break out before my eyes, but what girl can be so lucky to catch an empty cab at the exact cross street she needed at the exact time she needed (even though traffic was just plain terrible) AND witness one of the coolest things ever? Not this girl. I did, however, have a very unexpected and very beautiful view of the Hudson River and the Fall foliage all along my way up. Suddenly, taking the Metro North wasn't all that bad.
With our stomachs full, we ventured out to the orchard and began our picking. It was so, so lovely. The next best thing to eating as many apples as you possibly can, is photographing them. I don't know why it felt entirely satisfying to be surrounded by so many apple trees. But it did. So with an apple in one hand (and/or mouth), and a camera in the other, I soaked up the most Fall-ish day I think I've ever had. All while in very good company.
After picking two bushels, (and then hiding them so we didn't have to carry around two baskets while we frolicked), we wrapped up our day with some quick pumpkin picking, then headed to the cars and passed around the Acqua Panna bottles (I told you were fancy), because we were ever so parched. I typed that with my pinky out. ;)
We reconveined back at Sean's in Williamsburg, where the remainder of the night was spent in his kitchen. There was still homemade sauce & spaghetti to be eaten, copious amounts of wine to be drunk, laughs to never cease, French rap to be played (and short-lived), Missy Elliot tunes to be danced to (and were not short-lived), and homemade apple cinnamon pie to be stuffed into our mouths.
....I love days like those.