Apples in autumn

We took full advantage of the free Saturday we had this weekend past and adventured out to the apple orchards, where, at this time of year, heirloom apples droop from trees that have thrived for hundreds of years.We had been strawberry picking together, and to the pumpkin patch together, but gallivanting out to apple country was another story of the most wondrous variety. The husband was skeptical of the whole shindig at first, but at the moment he picked his first apple, his face lit up like it does when a juicy steak is plopped in front of him. We now have a new apple-picking convert, and I daresay we gaped with delight at the fruit more than the rampaging toddlers there with their families did. Better yet, the orchard was adjacent to an 18th century colonial farm - a most fortuitous discovery, particularly since I've a predilection for the colonial era (thanks to my most favored childhood books, the American Girl series, in which colonial girl Felicity was my favorite). Wandering about there really felt like a step back in time, not only because the grounds appeared untouched since the 18th century, and that the workers there donned revolutionary era garb, but also because there was no cell phone reception. It was one of the most legit places we've ever been, and we were nearly convinced we were in Virginia circa the 1770s, far removed from modern civilization. So thankful we get to experience such faux time-traveling together. In short, it was a most lovely day.