Crunchy habits
Friday, October 16th, 2009Since moving to Boston, I am slowly picking up on some of the traditions here. Some more than others of course.
Although I’m not a huge sports fan, I would still love to attend at least 1 Red Sox game at Fenway. Just don’t tell any of my neighbors I don’t watch their games on TV. They may stone us as we leave the house. People are serious about the Red Sox here, serious as a heart attack.
Also as far as the language goes, I’m still fully capable of pronouncing the letter “r.” Yes, I “park my car”, and don’t “pahk my cah” yet. I’m reminded each time I ride the subway that I’m still not a local when the operator announces, “Next stop Hah-vahrd Square” and I’m the only one who has to stop and think, “Huh? Oh! Okay.”
However, there is one tradition that I have latched onto in the 3 years we’ve been here- apple picking. I mean, what’s not to love about strolling around an orchard, eating apples, and taking bushels of fruit home to enjoy for weeks. We have enjoyed it every year, even though there are a few things we could have done without. One, some fruit farms turn apple picking into an opportunistic seasonal event where they charge nearly $50 at the door for gimmicky hayrides, games, and a tiny plastic bag to fill with apples. Two, the seasonal tradition brings droves of people out to orchards on the weekends, congesting traffic and orchard fields. And three, we have yet had the opportunity to try cider donuts. Many of the fruit farms will sell them during apple picking season, but the lines are congested as well.
So this year, I searched for a smaller, more obscure fruit farm where we could go. Particularly somewhere that used little to no pesticides on their fruit.
After sifting through a long list of farms, I found Kimball’s Fruit Farm along the Massachusetts and New Hampshire border. It was a bit of a hike from Boston, but well worth the drive.

If you look in the distance in the photo above, you can see the rows of apple tress.
Notice, there are no lines of people anywhere. No hayrides. And we brought our own reusable bags.


