In Florida, I never got the chance to go apple picking growing up. We did go strawberry and blueberry picking. Strawberry picking was fun at first but since it was necessary to bend over to reach the plants, you left the trip feeling like a hunchback. Blueberry picking was not the best either. It was always so hot outside that I found myself choosing one tree and hiding under its branches for shade until it was time to leave. So, after moving to Virginia, every year when fall came around, I heard all about apple picking, pumpkin patches, corn mazes and hayrides. But even after living here for four years I had never experienced it for myself. So you can imagine, the day Craig and Tiyana decided they were going apple picking I was ecstatic and had to join them! We planned out our perfect day. Wake up late, take the two hour scenic route over the beautiful mountains of southwest Virginia to the apple orchard, pick our own fresh, crispy, juicy, apples from the tree, go on a hayride, try out the corn maze, drink apple cider, buy the fixings for an apple pie, drive home, bake the pie and enjoy a warm slice with vanilla ice cream as we sit by the fire. What could be better than that? Well, as everyone knows, things never work out as planned.
The morning we were supposed to be apple picking turned out to be overcast and dreary. We checked the forecast and there was a fifty percent chance of rain over the whole area. But we didn’t let this slow us down one bit! We were living the life, rain or shine! So all three of us hopped into Craig’s car. (I feel like, in order for you to get the full effect of the story, I need to describe Craig’s car.) Craig has a 1995 Saturn SL2. It’s green, small and is not an automatic. (Which means I cannot drive it despite everyone’s best attempts to teach me how to drive a stick.) Anyway, we set out on our “scenic route” through Hungry Mother Park in the Saturn. Since, Tiyana and I are new to the southwest Virginia area, as we were driving, Craig told us the story behind the name of Hungry Mother Park.
This is what he said: A long time ago, a woman named Molly and her child were kidnapped from the New River Settlement and taken to this area by Indians. Molly and her child escaped and after wandering the mountains, eating only berries for days, she collapsed by the river. The child was found days later and the only words he would say were “Hungry Mother”. They found the body of Molly days later. This is how the park got its name. You should have seen Tiyana’s and my facial expression after hearing this story. Our “scenic route” took us right through the scene of a real life horror story! If this story didn’t make our stomach turn, then road to get to the park did. I am from Florida and Tiyana is from New Jersey, both of which are flat as a pancake. And the roads in both states stay at sea level and are mostly straight like railroad tracks. The road to Hungry Mother Park was the exact opposite. In Craig’s little ’95 Saturn SL2 we zigzagged our way up three huge mountains. Honestly, I was not sure we would make it to the apple orchard. Between the steepness in the road and Craig’s little car (no offence Craig, your car is nice) I was sure I was going to meet the same end as the “Hungry Mother”. At one point I looked up (trying to pray that God would get us there safely) and when I should have seen sky and clouds I saw a guardrail through the trees from the road that we were about to zigzag up to.
Needless to say, both Tiyana and I were as green as the grass in our front yard, but thankfully we managed to hold our breakfast down. (In my opinion, Craig secretly had a blast torturing two city girls by driving them into the backwoods and telling them horror stories). But, finally, we made it to Marion, the city on the other side of the mountain. We stopped at McDonalds to get our feet on solid ground and let our stomachs settle, and then we headed to the apple orchard.
The first thing I noticed when we pulled into the orchard was how empty it looked. No one was running around in the corn maze, no one was out by the apple trees with friends picking apples, and the tractor that pulled the trailer for hayrides was parked in the barn with the trailer unhitched. It looked nothing like all the pictures I had seen on facebook of people apple picking. Even the overcast sky made all the colors look dreary and dull. We pulled into the little store they had set up, and all piled out of the car. Inside they had huge bins full of every kind of apple you could imagine! Rome, Granny Smith, Red Delicious, Golden Delicious, Winesap and Gala. They even had a bin full of “bad apples” with bruises and cracks. Everything you could think of making with an apple they had for sale. Apple butter, apple cider, apple juice, even apple potpourri! I had never seen so many apple creations! They also sold beautiful mums, pumpkins and gourds in every shape, size and color.
After looking around we found a lady who told us what we feared, customers were not allowed to pick the apples as a liability and all the fun activities were closed on weekdays. I pouted for a short time about how my first apple-picking trip was turning out to be less than I expected, but I soon got over my sadness when Craig and Tiyana began talking about the last part of our plan, the apple pie! We tracked down the owner of the orchard, a skinny, old man in dirty jeans and a plaid button up shirt, whose teeth were all black, and asked him which apples were best to use to make our apple pie. He pulled us over to the Granny Smith and Rome apples and gave us a speech on taste and texture. We ended up buying a bag of Granny Smith apples, a bag of Rome apples, a jug of apple cider, and an apple scented car freshener. Then we all piled back into the car and took the interstate back home.
We stopped at Food City on the way home and got all the fixings for a delicious apple pie; crust mix, cinnamon, brown sugar, and nutmeg. When we got home we unpacked our goodies and began to make the best apple pie anyone has ever tasted! I started to help by rolling out the crust, but I am horrible in the kitchen so after three tries I handed it over to Craig who finished the whole pie and put it in the oven to bake. (A man who can bake? Yes ladies he’s single!) After waiting 45 agonizing minutes the pie was finally ready! When it came out it was so beautiful, I didn’t even want to cut it. Looking at it, I realized that even though our big plans didn’t quite turn out the way we planned, the end result was better than we imagined. We had a great time together and gained memories that we will talk about for a long time to come. I wouldn’t trade our apple picking adventure for anything! We sliced up the pie and scooped out the vanilla ice cream. We even shared our yummy pie with the rest of the family, and had a wonderful time, the rest of the night, sharing the stories of our adventure.
