I don’t know why I keep returning to the orchard. Sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s cold. Sometimes the spring was so bad that the crops suffered. You never know what you’re going to get–including rained out, which happened to us last week. But I’ve been going to the orchard since Yanni was little–1 or 2? And it used to be something to share with my Mother. Lately, it’s been a bonding experience with friends. Or at least that how it feels to me. Today we met three other families at the orchard. As I watched Xay climb the tree to pick the highest apples, I couldn’t help remembering his first trip to the orchard–in the baby backpack. Or the visit before that–pregnant and picking apples. There’s something about the air–cool or hot, and searching for food, and tasting, climbing, that is powerful. I don’t care about the other attractions orchards set up to stay in business. All they need are trees and access, and I’m good.

Donuts and cider aren’t bad, either.