Apples in the desert. It’s a little ridiculous, but I’ll take what I can get. Besides, their apple cider donuts are the best things. Enough so that I can ignore the fact that they are gluten-tastic and just enjoy them.
They’re a little far of a drive, so it’s only a once-a-year treat for us to go pick apples and enjoy donuts and get out of the city and see the
countrydesertside. We ended up with over 24 pounds of apples, which, maybe not too surprisingly, doesn’t actually look like much.
Lady plans on making apple butter out of all of those apples. I plan on encouraging her, then taking advantage of said butter and slathering it on everything. What’s left over – which will probably be jars upon jars – will be holiday presents.
I tried to take a lot of photos and really enjoy it. We don’t know if we’ll be back next year, after all. The thought keeps crossing my mind about a lot of things this autumn – ideally, we’ll be so overwhelmed with imminent baby / taking care of baby that we won’t get to do these things. So I’m slowing down more than usual, trying to take it in, while at the same time not getting my hopes up.
Lady’s been getting particularly caught up in the babyfever which is both adorable and validating. She’s reached the stage where she sees babies everywhere. It’s like we switched places: she keeps asking me if it’s January yet. I keep trying to remind her to live in the moment.
The light is changing. The mornings are growing colder. Even the ocotillos are turning yellow. Next weekend we are planning to ascend into the mountains and search for some real fall color – there’re supposed to maples and birches and aspen up there, after all. On another weekend I want to make marshmallows and graham crackers and highjack a friend’s fire pit.
But we’ll start with the apples.