Apple Picking

Here in New England we are lucky to have four distinct seasons (some say six if you count Mud and Bug as separate seasons), each with its own character – both delights and nuicances – and rhythms. And usually by the end of one you begin looking forward to the next. Even Winter holds plenty of charms, as long as you bundle up.

But Autumn is by far my favorite season. Come August each year I’m ready for cooler nights and crisp mornings heavy with dew. The Farmers’ Market starts showing signs first – tomatoes are at their peak and the corn and blueberries make way for early squashes, potatoes and a joyous array of sunflowers. But the highlight of Fall for me is always an afternoon of apple picking (though a day at the Fryeburg or Topsfield Fair is a close second).

T and I took M&L and Li’l P to our favorite local orchard on Sunday. We discovered Doles Orchard in Limington, Maine several years ago. I don’t remember how we found it – it’s quite a bit off the beaten path, but worth searching out if you’re in the area. It sits on top of an open ridge surrounded by the low, rolling hills of Southwestern Maine. They have several varieties of apples (only the Macintosh, Cortland and Macouns were ready for picking), but they also have damson plums, raspberries, strawberries (in season), pigs, chickens, ducks, pumpkin whoopie pies, pumpkins and a hay maze!

It was a perfect September day – perfectly clear, cool breeze and warm sun; the kind of day that makes your soul sing. Have you ever eaten a sun-warm, cool-crisp Macoun right off the tree?

Can you blame Eve, really?

Doles has rows and rows of late season red raspberries. I admit I nibbled on a few.