Places to Go: Apple Picking in Oak Glen

Not this weekend but the weekend before, we drove a thousand hours to pick apples off the floor... AND MAKE CIDER OUT OF THEM! And it was awesome.

Every year, for as long as I've been a parent, I've wanted to go apple picking. In Southern California, where fall never quite appears (or winter or spring, for that matter), festive activities feel like a differentiating necessity. I adore pumpkin patches, find corn mazes incredibly magical (albeit terrifying) and get such a kick out of gourds that I just... buy them and, like, stick them places randomly and anonymously just to spread cheer. They're like elves on the shelves, in my opinion. Gourds on the Boulevards (TM). If it wasn't for pumpkin patches and orchards and things all lit up, the summer would quite literally be endless.

Anyway, fall. FALL! Apples. APPLES! After many years of *almost* going apple picking, I decided late (last) Saturday night that come morning, we'd pack up the van and head east toward apple country. Oak Glen is the closest apple picking location to LA. It took us about two hours to get there and two hours to get back AKA we spent more time in the car than we did on the actual farm but it was SO worth it.

Some days are just easy. Not most days, but some. And while I was really looking forward to finding a farm and going out into the orchards to gather with my family, I was blown away by how EXCITED my kids were once we arrived. 

Because, in the car, on the way.... they were not excited. They were, like, "SERIOUSLY? THIS IS SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO OOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO OOOOOO far."

"Life lesson, kids. Sometimes you have to drive a couple hours to get to the apples."

It was PACKED the day we went apple picking but we arrived early enough that there was still parking and we were able to park right in front of a smaller orchard that specialized in cider making. Our plan was to go wherever we were able to find parking, so for us, Stone Pantry Orchard was our spot. 

And it was lovely. 

We filled a barrel of apples for our cider and three plastic bags full of apples from the tree. Each child picked and chose their apples differently, Bo eating them as she picked, Revi collecting only the tiniest shriveled up "baby" apples that were rotting and covered in mold. 49% gross. 51% charming.

After picking and choosing and picking "bruised but hard to the touch" apples for our cider making, we headed over to a shady spot where a man played banjo. We danced a little, waited a little, danced some more, waited some more and finally, got started rinsing and cleaning our apples to prep for cider making:

shlepping
cleaning
dropping apples in the grinder thing

(flannels sold separately)

pouring the rest of the apples in the thing to save time. 
juicing

watching/juicing cont. 
posing with the fruits of our labors 

We packed it up and walked back to the car soon after and instead of stopping for lunch in the Oak Glen town (which was overflowing with people) we drove on. Hal and I are not only huge fans of flannels around our waists but also terribly anxious in large groups of people. We entertained the idea of pulling over several times but UGH, SO MANY PEOPLE! SO MANY PEOPLE IN LINES FOR BOUNCE HOUSES! SO MANY PEOPLE WAITING FOR BATHROOMS. I threw the kids some almonds to snack on until we found a place that was suitable (and not overcrowded) for lunch.

We stopped in Redlands and ended up at a family-owned pizza place. Very Pirates of the Caribbeanesque which is always a good sign. And then (and I realize I already wrote about this on Instagram. Apologies if you've heard this one before) I took Bo and Revi to the bathroom and WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE WALK IN!?

THESE:

I lost my mind a little bit and then Bo and Revi were like, "it looks like us!" and I was like YES IT LOOKS LIKE YOU, DO YOU GUYS KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS!? THIS IS A REALLY GREAT SIGN THAT EVERYTHING IS AS IT SHOULD BE! THIS CALLS FOR CELEBRATION! A CELEBRATION, I SAY!

Upon leaving the bathroom, I made sure the ENTIRE pizza restaurant heard the news about the portraits. And the entire pizza restaurant made sure that I knew that nobody cared. Except for me. And the kids. But mostly me.

I was stupid stoked. (I even flirted with the idea of asking the owners if I could somehow BUY the paintings from them but then I realized that the magic was there, in the moment, and it wouldn't be the same if we brought it home with us. So we left it there. In Redlands, CA. Gone but not forgotten.)

The day was magical. Some days just are. The universe sends all the right messages and subtle (and not so subtle) signs appear among the clouds and trees and pizza parlor restrooms. We found ourselves high on life and apples as we climbed back into the car, nodding, laughing, singing along to Roxette because 90s on 9 plays Joyride every. other. song. pretty much.

The great thing about waiting all these years to apple pick and having it be this magical day is that, rain or shine, we will go again next year. And the year after that. And the year after that. And that makes me so happy, you know? To have started a tradition. To have survived and thrived the shlep...

 Sometimes you have to drive a couple hours to get to the apples.

GGC