I missed the pickle festival in place of a day of apple picking. It was far hotter than expected, and the part where the apples were ripest were downhill from the entrance. The trouble begins when you discover that you are saddled with a giant barrel of apples in the sweltering sun, with a big hill in front of you. Usually I wouldn't care because I don't carry the apples post-picking, but the husband stayed home with swine flu and my friends had their own giant barrels to lug, so it was me and Max, who had a hurt back from last night's wrestling fest. And all that work on a belly full of apples and water... and more apples. I wish they would grow cheese and crackers in alternating trees.
When I decided to take this photo of their bindle, I rather suddenly let go of my half of the apple bag handle, causing the bag to break and all the apples to go rolling away.