Fall-ing for apples
It’s technically fall (well Aussies say “autumn” but there’s something lovingly cozy about the word “fall”), which means…
APPLE SEASON!
Well, not really. Back in the northern hemisphere, fall means apple picking, cozy spices (think nutmeg and cinnamon), apple cider. Here, fall means…well, I’m not sure yet because it’s still hot here and I haven’t noticed any particular fruit variety make its grand entrance on March 1 (the first day of fall in Australia—yes, it’s weird that they mark the seasons by calendar date rather than autumnal equinox).
I love apple picking. I know it’s quite a bougie thing to do, and something like New Yorkers (from the city) get made fun of, but I still love it and own it. Sure it’s easy to romance the idea of apple picking, especially when the sun is blazing down your back as you’re trying to drag a sack of apples back to your car, but it is quite a lovely lived-out fantasy.
My favorite orchard is Fishkill Farms, and I’ve gone for three years now. I love weaving through the orchard row, trying new (tart Winecrisp), weird (pepper Mutsu), and colorful (tie-dye Jonagold) varietals and getting excited when the perfect twist snaps the apple stem off the branch. I love eating half a dozen apple cider donuts by myself (seriously the best you will ever have) and saving the remaining half dozen for later (aka the car ride back home).
But most of all I love how this is an activity that enables my family to spend more time together. This most recent (Northern hemisphere) fall we took a weekend trip to upstate New York, spending some time exploring the area and of course, going apple picking. It was one of the highlights of a weird H2 2024, a moment of joy in what would be a very long and exhausting September.
