Last week the boys and I went apple picking at an orchard about an hour away. It had been highly recommended by some women in the ward, and I was excited to give the boys something to do. We drove out, picked up one 1/2 bushel you-pick bag and one wagon, and then went to the trees.
It was great. The branches were long enough that even the youngest could reach the apples and pull them off by himself.
The oldest knew exactly what to do and in about 7 minutes, we had a full 1/2 bushel.
"Let's do another," said the oldest.
I hadn't planned on buying two you-pick bags worth (I was going to get the cheaper seconds), but we walked back to the entrance, picked up another bag, and then went back to the trees. A tractor drove by twice and the farmer waved at the boys, and the boys thought it was great. They were ready to go back the next day.
That night, though, the youngest started running a (mild) fever, and he was cranky and clingy the next day, so we didn't go apple picking and the oldest didn't go to preschool (just in case it was contagious). The next night the youngest threw up, and the next day he had diarrhea. During the day he just had a runny nose and a little cough, but he didn't seem bothered. But to be safe we stayed homebound. The "bug" ended up sticking around until Saturday, when I saw two new canine teeth poking out from his top gums. Aha! I should have guessed it.
Since the "bug," the boys and I have canned 1 bushel of apples: 9 quart jars of apple pie filling (plus one that didn't seal and became a very tasty pie), 9 quart jars of applesauce (plus 2 pints that didn't get processed and became tasty applesauce and apple muffins), and 3 pints of apple butter (that didn't get processed and have been really fun to eat on everything). I have one more bushel to go, and then we might head back out to the orchard.
This week we are going to try out a pumpkin patch. If it is picture-worthy, I'll post pictures later.
(The boys in the gator before meeting Abe.)
(Me and the boys with a pumpkin silo behind us.)
(The oldest as a scarecrow.)
(The youngest as a scarecrow.)
(The boys with their papi on the hay bale stack.)
"A' doin'?"
"Diaper. 'Mon." Takes me by the finger and walks me to the bedroom.***
(A Bedouin tent while "the bug" was here.)
(A house--with chimney--for Conference weekend. The house is now aqua blue.)
It was great. The branches were long enough that even the youngest could reach the apples and pull them off by himself.
The oldest knew exactly what to do and in about 7 minutes, we had a full 1/2 bushel.
"Let's do another," said the oldest.
I hadn't planned on buying two you-pick bags worth (I was going to get the cheaper seconds), but we walked back to the entrance, picked up another bag, and then went back to the trees. A tractor drove by twice and the farmer waved at the boys, and the boys thought it was great. They were ready to go back the next day.
