We started out early on a Saturday morning excited to revisit family-owned Mackintosh Fruit Farm in Berryville, Va. A couple months earlier on our way back from one of our RV adventures in Virginia, Chris wanted to stop by the farm as we often shop for fresh fruits and veggies. Our GPS system took us on this elaborate labyrinth of back roads, twists and turns, until we finally ended up in familiar territory. It could have been an easy drive with just two turns, but for GPS, right? This time, we knew where we were going, but In a moment, our hopes were dashed. The gates were closed. It was like the Griswold’s traveling across America with such excitement only to find Walley World shut down. Now what?
Chris had checked their website to make sure the farm would be open when we arrived. All good. That is, until it wasn’t. A new sign on that old gate posted revised Saturday and Sunday hours. The idea was to enjoy the morning picking some apples, have coffee, a breakfast sandwich and top it off with their famous apple-cinnamon donuts against the backdrop of the picturesque Virginia countryside. We had about an hour to kill. New fall hours. Nevertheless, being good road warriors, we drove around the Winchester, Va. area and reminisced about where we had lived over 30 years ago, and how it had changed.
When we returned, the gates were open and we were about the only ones there. The grounds were picked bare. Orchards looked like they were well-into their long winter nap. The self-picking for apples was shut down for the season because there were basically no apples left to pick. Our Norman Rockwell romantic idea of a morning in the orchard had pretty much turned into a Picasso cubist abstract.The kitchen was not open for breakfast. The outside tables looked desolate against the backdrop of the graying autumn dormancy. The store clerk was sorting out the last few pecks of apples. She gave Chris a couple of baskets and told her to pick out what she wanted. In a sense we were able to “pick” some apples after all.
While Chris was filling up her baskets with apples, Service Dog Charlie and I were snooping around to see what else we could find. And there it was. Like a golden crisp neon sign blinking on and off and triggering our taste buds! The one thing that really saved the day. Fresh baked apple cinnamon donuts. The Good Book says the last shall be first. Well, we were among the last to visit the orchards this year, but this morning we were among the first to get our hands on those, let me repeat myself, fresh-baked apple cinnamon donuts. Some of which didn’t make it home, but definitely caused me to lick the sugar from my fingers so as to not get the residuals all over the steering wheel. A Norman Rockwell morning after all!
