In the fall we always go apple picking, something I've done with my daughters since they were little, very little. The tradition continues now with my grandchildren. Fall is upon us and of course it's apple picking time.
We tried to go apple picking today, tried was the operative word, no apples to pick at this particular orchard in Woodstock, Illinois. All the apples packed in tiny little bags with huge price tags were kept in the cooler.
The top two or three apples in the tiny bags were nice enough, the bottom few not so much, they were bruised and soft. I do understand the drought, the lack of apples, and the necessity for the orchard to support itself, but I don't have to pay a premium for at best mediocre quality.
I chose to vote with my pocketbook and not buy any of their apples, instead I went to a fresh fruit market and bought the delicious honey crisp apples for a fraction of the cost and I still supported the local growers.
The day was fun, we were together and the drive down was gorgeous. Fall arrived early and the trees were in their glory-the colors were magnificent. We stopped at Papa G's, for a late lunch. A delightful diner in Huntley, where the food was good and my meatloaf (love meatloaf) delicious. I tend to judge diners on their meatloaf.
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