Anywho...apple picking...a photo essay.
Warning: This is apparently not the correct pole technique.
At one point we took a walk up the road, and I got super parched (remember how I told you it was 90 degrees?), and there was no alternative but to "borrow" some water from this garden hose. That's how they do it in the country, right?
As you can imagine, we were super picky about the apples that would become our cider.
Hi little apple. I'm gonna grind you and press you and drink you all up.
Step one: Grinding.
Step one: Grinding.
After I gave it a whirl, I noticed these two boys looking longingly at the process. They were more than willing to give us a hand. That's Tony looking at the camera and his brother Ivan concentrating on the grinding.
All grinded up.
Ivan and Tony's work was far from done. Get to pressin', boys. Even their father was impressed with their team work.
A gallon in fact. Sidenote: I don't think this guy is "dressing the part." I think this is who he is, some gentle apple giant who enjoys chopping applewood and making cider.
Ah, the last shot of the day. And perhaps the most hilarious. I'm eating ribs. Which I never eat. Probably because this is what I look like when I eat ribs. I'm surrounded by bees. I'm outsided out. I'm sporting the double glasses but they've fallen from grace. It makes me laugh every time I look at it and that's why I knew I had to include it here.
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