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Photo by Gail Harvey, no reproduction without permission
Waupoos and Beyond Now that I have *two* days off, it's possible to explore corners of the County I've only understood on maps. Apple season is upon us, and so it seemed essential to venture out to Waupoos, where many orchards have roadside stands bursting with all sorts of God's best fruit. [OK peaches may come first, but shh, don't tell the apples!]
After grabbing soome Macs and a basket of fresh tomatoes, I decided to just keep driving down the road and see where it took me. One of the most joyful things about losing one's city slickerism is knowing that all roads lead to Picton. You can't actually get lost in a scary way, although talk to me if I take a wrong turn in a blizzard this winter, but even then, someone's going to help, so there is no anxiety. This island mentality suits me just fine: keep driving and eventually you land home or close to it. I saw the most wondrous water and the leaves turning, met the lovely gal at County Cider Company, listened to Heart and smelled the fields and the rain-wet dying cornstalks. It is this kind of outing that reminds me of why I can no longer live in a city. You can be alone on the road, thinking and dreaming and singing. I haven't bought apples just picked for a long time, and I haven't picked apples in even longer. I thought of my grandpa as I picked out a basket. Apples have a special place in my heart because of him. Those brown arms working every day in the sun and in the rain, tending to it all because he loved it. Stan Titus lives on in every orchard I see. The girl asked did I want to pick my own and I opted out, only because I couldn't remember how to, though of course I do, somewhere in this body of mine. But really I just wanted to sink my teeth into one of those Macs and drive, and drive, and see the leaves turning, and look at all the pretty horses.
Back to work tomorrow: making soup is like tending a very small orchard in a pot each day. Suits me. Thank you Grandpa for showing me what passion looks like.
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