Summer Orchard

We made our annual trip to pick apples at the mountain that looks down on Charlottesville. There weren't big crowds and we filled our bags with peaches and apples and then rewarded our kids with with ice cream cones.

 I love the fragrance of an orchard ripe with peaches.  Ripe apples aren't as distinctly detected by smell, though the orchard itself has a woodier smell. Our kids our equally happy to have their head up in branches of fruit trees. It's a dream of mine to have a small family orchard of my own someday like my father's. Our apples barely last a few days when we bring them home ripe from the local orchard. They certainly didn't make it into a pie this time as I had planned they would.

Blue and green must be the colors of heaven, and this red Virginia clay under our feet must be here to remind us that we're still on earth. Every time I have any sort of elevation in central Virginia I can't satisfy my need to admire every view. Perhaps in the back of my mind I know that the seasons will change very soon and all of this green will ignite in shades of autumn. That will be pretty, too.