I went apple picking last Saturday with my family at Apple Holler, which is just over the Illinois-Wisconsin border. It's tailor-made for Chicago-area families who want to have that outdoorsy experience while still having access to a few amenities for the kids. It was also a very warm day, as well. The apples taste great, but, all in all, it wasn't my favorite fall memory.
You have to make your way through what's essentially a farmer's market carnival (pony rides, food stands, etc.) to get to the orchards and it was a pretty crowded day. I think the thing that bothered me, though, wasn't anything that the Apple Holler people did (all of whom, I should say, were very nice), but I have this thing about the weather. I like it to be normal. There's a small part of my brain that is a little concerned about global warming and the mild winters we've had the last few years make me nervous. I'm sure there are countless meterologists who would say that global warming has nothing to do with it, but it's my fear, nonetheless. So, when I go apple picking on Oct. 1, I want there to be a little bite in the air. Give me 65 degrees or so. Not 85. Not shorts and t-shirts. Oh, dear. I've become an autumnal Scrooge.
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