Apple Picking and Mountains

It's September!  It's technically fall but it's been 90 degrees and humid the last few weeks. I have not really wanted to be outside, so we have spent most of our week running errands, grocery shopping (my least favorite chore), and unpacking.  I think we are turning a corner on the unpacking and have even reached the hanging picture phase (which is saying something). 

Last weekend, some friends invited us out to an apple orchard.  In the midst of all of this craziness, we thought, let's go pick apples.  We, of course, forgot that you actually have to do something with those 20 pounds of apple we just purchased, so I ended up canning applesauce and pie filling.  Having never canned before, it's been a wild week.  There was a beautiful apple pie and the end of it, so I guess I can't complain.

Our friends.

We picked at this beautiful farm down by Front Royal.  It never ceases to amaze me that you can drive an hour out of town and be at farms and rolling hills.  I get caught up in the mass of suburbia and humanity where I spend much of my life.  Millions of people to farms in just a short ride.  It seemed the perfect spot to stop and take some pictures too.  How have I lived for 30 years and not gone to pick apples? 

Sometimes I miss the mountains.  There is something so grounding about the mountains, I always know where I am.  We have traded mountains for trees again, but being in a place with the rolling mountains (hills, really), it makes me not miss home quite so much.  There will always be a part of me that gravitates to the country, to the fields of alfalfa, the wooden fences and barns.  I wonder about the experiences that have led us here to Virginia and away from my roots and mountains.  I think it's going to take some time to see what the reasons were.  I know the initial reason of a job, but I am interested to see what will come as we build our life here.  There is some definite growing happening.