I've noticed: as I grow older, I become steadily more appreciative of making and keeping traditions. I love how, over time, a positive experience becomes increasingly significant because of my history with it. Apple pickin' on Carter Mountain is turning into one of those things for me. I have great memories there: not only with my children, but also with some of my closest friends.
This was my second year in a row to travel to Carter Mountain with the Sharonly Wonder, and I have to say: it might have been my best apple-pickin' experience, yet.
Sharon likes to get after the fujis, and they're way up the mountain. Hold on; I'll show you:
Sharon likes to get after the fujis, and they're way up the mountain. Hold on; I'll show you:
 |
| Carter Mountain Orchard |
Ok. Do you see that red barn? Well, we parked on the far side of it. Like I said, the fujis are way up the mountain. I don't expect you to remember, but my little Chip was born November 2, 2012. So I done waddled up to the fujis, last year. I remember thinking to myself: Sharon might just kill me, also wondering: What if my water breaks right here on the side of the mountain? But she didn't; it didn't; and later, Jim Dear wondered how in the hound dog I'd managed to climb a mountain when keeping up with dishes and laundry seemed to escape me, entirely.
Truth is: I still have no idea how I followed the Sharonly Wonder all the way up to the fujis, last year.
Three years ago, Charleigh was less than two months old when Rachel and I went to Carter Mountain, which was a fairly frustrating experience because (being still down a bit in the back from labor/delivery) I didn't want to wear the baby, so I put her in a stroller.
Y'all. A stroller on Carter Mountain is worthless as tits on a boar hog. Charleigh and I hung out in one spot in the Granny Smith section (just beside the barn), and I thought: I ain't doing this again until this kid's big enough to walk or, better yet, pick apples.
Y'all. A stroller on Carter Mountain is worthless as tits on a boar hog. Charleigh and I hung out in one spot in the Granny Smith section (just beside the barn), and I thought: I ain't doing this again until this kid's big enough to walk or, better yet, pick apples.
Which is probably why I didn't go to Carter Mountain two years ago.
But, anyway, I got it together this year, Ladies and Gentlemen. 1) I wasn't pregnant. 2) I borrowed Rachel's backpack for Chip, i.e. no stroller. 3) Sharon was there to take a turn carrying Chip in the backpack. 4) My friend Christy's big kids and tons of their big-kid friends were there to help with the girls. 5) The girls were so excited to fill their bags with apples that I didn't pick the first fruit; I just played with my camera on a perfect day. Win-win-win-win-win.
 |
| Christy's daughter Abi, carrying Charleigh |
 |
| My little Clementine was in big-girl heaven. Sweetest big girls in the world, too. |
 |
| Fujis |
 |
| Abi in a fuji tree. |
 |
| Abi |
 |
| Christy's son Noah, carrying Clementine. |
 |
| Sharon and Chip |
 |
| Granny Smiths |
 |
| Apple Cider Doughnut |
One more thought before I close. As I was planning this post, I remembered the Johnny Appleseed song and specifically the first stanza, which we used to sing at Girl Scout camp when we wanted it to rain. Right, wrong, or indifferent, I remember its nearly always working.
The Lord is good to me
And so I thank the Lord
For giving me the things I need
The sun and the rain and the appleseed
The Lord is good to me
The sun and the rain and the appleseed
The Lord is good to me
I'll include a link so you can listen and learn. Just in case, you know, you're ever in a season of drought.
