A couple weeks ago it started feeling like fall all at once. In one fell swoop of chilly breezes and gray skies, temps in the 80’s disappeared from the forecast and I realized that I should have checked on the kids’ winter wardrobes already. Instead of the gradual descent into fall, we had an abrupt plunge that left nature looking every bit like summer, and us scurrying around in caps and coats.  My students did a unit on seasons a couple weeks ago, and we joked about how much people LOVE FALL, how it is almost obligatory in our society to gush about autumn. We mocked it, laughing about the girls who roll out  scarves the size of picnic blankets and furry boots the first day it drops below 70, only to sweat into their pumpkin spice beverages. I do not like to enjoy seasons outside of themselves, do not like celebrating a change before it’s really happened.

Which is why we don’t usually go apple picking. I love the autumnal festivity of apple picking, love the cider and donuts and pumpkins piled high. I love the fields of mums and crisp air. But in this area, apple season usually ends before that cooler air shows up. I emphatically do NOT love all those things when I am sweating. Will I shove an apple cider donut in my mouth in any weather? Obviously yes, because donuts are a top priority around here. But it’s not the same if you have to do it in shorts. Flannel and boots or bust, that’s my orchard mantra.But a couple weeks ago, fall blew in so fast that the rest of nature didn’t have time to catch up and we decided to grab some friends and go apple picking before the weather could change its mind again. We headed out to Homestead Farm , the orchard where we love to pick blackberries in the summer. Many of the farms in this area where all out of apples for the season, but Homestead is less carnival-esque and thus, less frequented, and still had lots of apples. It was cold and bright and the perfect day to welcome fall. It was also Etta’s inaugural wearing of the bear suit! I am devoted to animal attire as outerwear, not only because it is freaking adorable, but also because it is so much easier than wrestling a coat, hat, shoes, etc. on a baby. These two kids consumed a whole lot of apples in those fields and loved riding in the cart. Henry can be (is) so wild and energetic, but also really good at task oriented activities outside. He was so happy to run through the fields and pick apples. Yes, we picked way too many apples. James loves apples, so we have made a big dint in the stash just from eating them raw, but a lot of people suggested some great cooking options here.Lately I’ve had lots of thoughts about blogging, especially posts like this, posts that just say, “WE DID A THING AND IT WAS FUN AND HERE ARE PICTURES.” I have lots of posts that are started of things I really want to say, want to talk about, or want to share. But those posts take time and focus. It feels like blogs aren’t really as much of a thing anymore, or at least, aren’t in the sense of people just cataloguing daily existence for themselves and the handful of family and real friends that still care. When I was blogging regularly, a whole lot of people read and I thought about blogging more, about trying to make money, about that whole world of commercial blogging. Yet it felt a little showy and fake, marketing family life. Plus, when life gets busy- posting here is an easy thing to toss out.

But still.

Sometimes I go back and read old posts, posts from times when James and I were just dating, or Henry was a new baby. I love reading those old posts, because they act as a sort of virtual scrapbook of life. They chart our family forming and growing and are so, so precious to me.

So here is a post about picking apples in October, and it isn’t a post about much else. It doesn’t show you any  good products or any thought provoking articles. It won’t challenge or form any opinions. It doesn’t matter. But when I look back at it, I smile over Henry carrying a massive basket of apples, or Etta grinning, or the toddlers sharing caramel apples. Posts like this matter to me because they remind me that we did things together, and it was fun, and here are some pictures.