Apple Picking: It's Not For Weenies

My family has lots of Fall traditions: yelling at the TV during the Purdue football games. Getting lost in the local corn maze (this is mostly my own personal tradition because my husband has never, ever been lost one time in his entire life). My annual lecture on the fact that wearing socks with flip flops does not, in fact, make flops 'winterized'. And apple picking.

Ahh … apple picking. I do love apples. I really do. How much more autumnal can you get than apple picking? Crisp, cool weather to pull crisp, cool Granny Smiths, Courtlands or Golden Deliciouses off of a tree. Well, except the past couple of years the temperature has hovered around ninety degrees, but I'm not going to let that fact dampen my enthusiasm for traditional Fall activities.

My family loves picking apples so much that we tend to pick a lot. A lot. This year we picked the same weight as an average pre-schooler. That is to say … thirty-five pounds. Of apples. All Courtlands because the Golden Delicious weren't ripe enough yet. Thirty-five pounds of apples. Um … yeah. We really like picking apples.

This year I was so excited to go picking (nerd alert) that I jumped out of the car, rushed up to the first tree I saw, and pulled on an apple. It must not have been totally ripe yet because I had to tug on the apple, really pull on it. Like a lot. At this point a more reasonable person would have left the not-quite-ripe apple on the tree, but you have me. And (spoiler alert) I'm not all that reasonable.

However, I am stubborn so I dug in my heels, bent my knees slightly, gritted my teeth and pulled with enough mite to make Jillian the Biggest Loser trainer proud. The apple popped off in my hand.

Ah ha! Sweet victory, thy name is Jen.

My victory was followed by a disgruntled breeze riffling through the leaves of the tree. Then an apple of it's own accord dropped from the tree.

And another.

Then I heard a thunk, felt the pain, and saw a third apple fall to the ground.

What?! I was being attacked by fruit! Besieged by produce! Evidently I angered the apple tree by tugging off a not-quite-ripe piece of fruit and the tree retaliated by chucking apples at me. And one pegged me right in the shoulder. Oh my gentle Jesus that apple hurt. It was totally done on purpose. Trees are vindictive. Hostile, too.

I could feel that tree glaring at me. Seriously. It was giving me the ol' stink eye. And I'm pretty sure it was saying 'How you like them apples?'.

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