How you ever strolled through an orchard? There is a peace and a serenity in an orchard that cannot be found just anywhere. Outside of Waterdown on the edge of the Niagara Escarpment sits a farm called Frootogo. Rows and rows of apple trees line the landscape. Ripe, red apples lay on the ground in clusters beneath the trees, cast aside by yesterday's pickers. Hanging from the trees are apples half green and half red; the season's just begun. They have the dull look of apples that have not yet been sprayed. Rob pulls a small one from the tree and bites into it (remember "Strawberry Picking"?). We slowly make our way past the trees, picking as we go. We have the whole row to ourselves; it's as if we're the only two people on the planet. In the middle of that orchard, we could block out the world. We each put a final apple into the basket which is overflowing now and Rob carries it back to the barn. Wasn't it yesterday that we marked summer's beginning by picking strawberries? And now we pick apples as the summer comes to a close. The older we get, the faster time passes. We will hold on to those lingering days of summer like the apples cling to the trees. For now, we say goodbye.
Photo courtesy http://farm2.static.flickr.com