It’s apple-picking time in the Midwest.

Funny little thing, an apple. It comes in all shades of red and green and yellow. It’s fat-free, sodium-free and cholesterol-free. (But unlike many foods that make this boast, it’s NOT taste-free!) Most apples—in even the biggest orchards—are still picked by hand. Apples are a favorite of teachers and pie-bakers, of wicked witches and Pilgrims. (Yep, it was the Pilgrims who planted the first apple trees on U.S. soil.)

Last Sunday afternoon, my sister and I went with my daughter and my two grandsons to a huge apple orchard near my home for the full-court experience. WHEW! Besides every variety of apples imaginable, there was also a petting zoo and 12-acre corn maize, a tractor-and-wagon ride, warm apple pies and cinnamon donuts, and rows and rows of apples to pick. Drake and Brock loved it!

“Want to take a ride on the wagon?” I asked the boys as we raced toward a line waiting to board. We snuggled onto the wooden seat and watched as we rolled past sunflower fields and hundreds of apple trees.

The tractor driver would stop at each section of the orchard, shouting out the kinds of apples that could be picked there, and eager folks would hop off the wagon with their plastic bags to begin their personal harvests. Alas, we’d just jumped on for “the ride” and neglected to get anything to pick into. “Anyone need a bag?” the driver asked, reaching down to a stack below his tractor seat. “We do!” I shouted.

The wagon made another stop, and once again the driver boomed out varieties like a conductor rattling off destinations. He looked back at out little group, clutching our newly-acquired bags. “Last stop.” We scrambled off and stood staring down the rows. Drake and Brock took off running between the heavily laden trees. “What are you looking for?” he asked me, wondering if we’d chosen the right stop for the variety we wanted to pick.

I turned toward him and smiled. “A good time. We’re looking for a good time.” He smiled and waved as he pulled away.  I think he must have grandchildren of his own.

We picked the apples right off the trees and crunched into them. Wonderful! Heavenly! Truly the best apple I’d ever eaten. The boys and I plucked a dozen or so and tossed them into our bags, marveling at the roundness and endlessness of the rosy fruit.

Yes, it’s apple-picking season in the Midwest.  But, more importantly, it’s family time. The perfect time to kick up a few leaves, roast a few marshmallows, snuggle down to read aloud a good book.

Fall won’t last…memories will.

Did you hear the one about...

If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, what does an onion a day do?

Keeps everybody away!