Last Saturday, desperate to drink up the fall before it’s gone, we tossed the whole hacking, coughing family into the car and drove into Julian, a little mountain town full of apple orchards, gold mines, and quaint tourist trappings.
It was a wonderful day. Atti was at his best behaved, most snuggly and thoroughly adorable, we spent the whole day wandering around in the sunshine and eating apples in every form known to man, brought home juice and caramel apples and apple butter and more juice, and went to the last remaining open orchard of the season for fresh apples we’re turning into pies and tarts and baby food.
It ended up being a day perfect in it’s imperfection. The apple crop was weak this year, so the U-Pick orchards were all closed and we could only buy what was at the farm stand. We went for afternoon tea at a place that sounded like perfection and ended up being four pieces of bread eaten while seated in the middle of a store. We wandered through shops that sold truly unfathomable levels of junk to a captive audience. But we laughed the whole way through, enjoying our sweet little family and a perfect fall day, with loads of sweetness in our bellies.
