i grew up with grandparents who lived on an apple orchard, where jack rabbits went about, with a water tower painted as a caursouel, and a wood swing hung from a giant tree which an ever faithful woodpecker inhabited. as a young child, most of our holidays were spent there and most definitly easter, with cousins all about and conisistent family dishes served up at meal time. it is where i learned to put chips in my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, it is where i watched the biggest thunder and lightening storm of my life (the kind where the whole house rumbles), and it is where we picked apples at the end of every summer. bags and bags full of apples. many which went into applesauce, or pie, some became fun art projects where we withered our apples into wrinklely little people with clove eyes and yarn hair, and those that hit the ground became cider. so many apples that we traded bags full to our favorite chinese resteraunt for fortune cookies with tons left to spare.

the home no longer resembles the one i remember. my grandparents traded in sunny california for washington when i was about then. the water tower has been painted into something drab, the home remodeled, but i cannot help but to drive by whenever in the area ,and pray my children will have memories such as these, memories so fond they will look back years later, such as myself, and not be able to help but smile. how lucky we were to have them so near to us when we were young, for sleepovers and playdates, and singing jingle bells at the top of our lungs amoungst the windy road to their home regardless what time of the year it was.

with memories so fond i can only but my own children will have the same and so, we took our first trip to an apple orchard this week, with my boys and a dear friend's two children. it in no way compared to the feeling of being in my grandparents orchard as a young child, but it did bring memories i had long forgotten about back, along with a whole lot of fun.

we spent the morning in the orchard picking apples in the crisp fall air, which quickly warmed up, clark strapped to me, holland and his friend bouncing about through the orchard, my friend and i lugging around way too many bags and a baby each.

we left hot and dirty with a bag full of apples and some fresh pressed juice with tired kids and happy hearts. i am already itching to go back and i know for certain pie is in our future.