After a shift at the warehouse, I stopped at the orchard to get Honeycrisp apples. Contrary to what one sees in the mega market, they are seasonal, and the season is short. We hadn’t had enough.
The orchard staff was busy with a tour group, so I went straight to the display near the cooler in the sales barn. Sad remainders, absent of value besides pressing into cider, I ventured into the orchard wearing my white shirt, black slacks and blue shoes from the warehouse.
I had directed hundreds of people to the Honeycrisp groves the last two Saturdays. It was uncertain whether any could be found, but following my own advice, I looked near the trunk of the trees and was not disappointed. I picked eight pounds from two trees in a few minutes.
As I headed back, past the pumpkin patch, across the creek and up the hill, it was invigorating to be out in the orchard where ideas meet reality and bear fruit.