See You Next Fall

Lately I've become obsessed with Photoshop. So I've been going through my old photos that have been stashed away and gave them a little make-over. So this entry will be an illustrated blog.

When I think of the fall I think of warm colors.  I love warm colors and the cold crisp air this season brings. There’s nothing quite like it. I love taking my daughter out for walks and just feeling at peace because my surroundings are so beautiful. I want to soak them up and embrace them like this.

          Around Halloween I go back to my roots to a special place few of us are privileged to know. It’s a little place called Apple Hill in Northern California. This orchard has been around since before I was in Kindergarten, which is surprising considering how many folks have up and moved out of the Golden State in my day. 


            Apple Hill is the place you go to take your kids and enjoy the outdoors without having to campout. There’s a playground, a fishing hole, a place to ride ponies, a market to buy those delicious orchard apples, the Fudge Factory and you can also enjoy a yummy sandwich and scrumptious raw apple cider.

            Back when I was a wee lass Apple Hill had acres of pumpkins ready to be plucked. I’d roam free searching for the perfect pumpkin to carve for Halloween (and believe me, I took my pumpkin carving very seriously). I’d always try to find a pumpkin with a perfect scar, so my Jack-o-lantern would be more Halloween-like. I can’t explain why, but I would check out Halloween children’s books and figure out what kind of face I was going to carve that year. And I always looked forward to scouring through those acres of pumpkins at Apple Hill. I remember one year we made the trip up there to that special orchard and BAM! No more acreage of pumpkins to scour. There was just a tiny corner with a few pumpkins already picked sitting on stacks of hay.  My childhood joy was shot that day, but even so, Apple Hill still holds a very special place in my memories. 

            When I got older we used to go to Apple Hill around Christmas to one of the tree farms and select the perfect pine to celebrate the holiest of Holidays (well, it may be equal with Easter, if the you take the giant special bunny out of the equation). So Apple Hill somehow found its way back into my life.

            It seems like fall passes into winter too quickly. The leaves turn and then WHAPAP! They fall to the ground, loose their lustrous color and everything dies or at least looks dead. Then you know winter is here and it’s too far to count how many days till summer comes again. If you couldn’t tell I’m not a fan of winter, or rather I’m not a fan of the cold. A little chill is nice; a frozen white winter turns me into an ice sickle (accept I don’t want be outside or even leave the house). I become the winter hermit. Christmas aside, the cold isn’t enjoyable to me. There’s the anticipation for Christmas, which is almost better than actually celebrating Christmas. After I open my gifts, it’s all over. All that’s left is three more months of blistering coldness, two if I’m lucky. Then its allergy season, and then YAY! Summer’s back! Pull out the bikes and the hiking shoes. I’m going outside again! Until then I’ll be your friendly neighborhood hermit. See you next fall!