When people first meet me they usually think I'm super sweet and Pollyanna-ish... but it's never long before they decide that I am very cynical, intensely critical, and a million other less flattering characteristics. I think the sweet bit actually can be attributed to my dorky passion for wholesome fun... like pick-your-own-justaboutanything!
I'm a such a sucker for trekking out to pick my own fruit (in less than a year of blogging I've already highlighted blueberries and peaches). Even in our pre-kid days I would make sure Big Smith and I shared an apple picking date each fall. I always request a plaid flannel shirt (because all men should wear plaid and flannel when apple picking don't you think?) and I find it very romantic; fresh air, beautiful landscape, crisp apples, and if I'm really lucky a hay ride... ear to ear wholesome fun smiles.
This year we waited so long that it was actually pretty chilly and the apples were already off the trees and in giant wood bins for the picking. I was totally disappointed when I discovered this, selecting apples from a big box doesn't quite have the charm of plucking them off the trees. Big Smith however was thrilled, usually I take the lead with picking while he wanders and takes pictures but this time he could just peruse which apples looked the tastiest and load up.
Little Smith was a happy boy. He did his thing, which was to get very serious and treat gobbling up that apple like it was his job. He ate the whole thing and even part of the core, oops!
And the best part is that now we have a whole mess of apples, 'cause yeah I also do go all Pollyanna for an old fashioned apple pie. I may not be as sweet as I seem, but at least my pies do fit that bill.