Upon driving to Timbukto for our son’s soccer game Wednesday night, we came across a very popular apple orchard in central Ohio. On any given Saturday or Sunday, you can find Facebook posts of “perfect” families taking group selfies with the apple orchard in the background. It’s captioned with an entire paragraph of what they did or just simply #blessed.
“Do I suck or is apply picking super lame?” I asked my husband, already knowing his answer.
“Oh yeah, definitely lame.” He agreed.
“Thank you!” I said, slamming my hand down on the steering wheel.
I was pleased that we had this in common because encouraging me to pick apples would be grounds for divorce. No one in the year of our Lord, 2020 should ever pick apples. Rather, one should drive to the grocery store and pick up a dozen for $2.99. They’ve even been coated in chemicals to ensure a vibrant color and longer shelf life. Getting on a rickety wagon only to be dropped off in the middle of an apple orchard is on par with getting on a rickety wagon and being dropped off in an empty field. Plus, nine times out of ten, the apples are mille and not crisp.
Perhaps I got a bad taste in my mouth for apple picking because my dad forced us to go to the strawberry patch and pick strawberries. We weren’t poor or anything, he just felt I guess this a more viable option than walking into the grocery store and picking up packaged strawberries for $2. When we returned home with waaayyyy too many strawberries, my father would invent shit to make with the strawberries. The grossest thing to come to mind? Strawberry milk. Unless it had a rabbit on the front of the container, I wanted nothing to do with it.
If we were to pick grapes then go somewhere and make wine with the grapes, I guarantee that those fake smiles on Facebook would be genuine. I mean come on, has anyone ever been excited to go apple picking? No. Has anyone ever been excited about going to the winery? Hell yeah!
I really don’t have a point to this post other than I’m relieved my husband and I are on the same page when it comes to apple picking. Happy Saturday! I’m going to go have a glass of wine now, made from grapes I didn’t pick.