Apples and Oranges

One item on my Hamptons to-do list has been to Pick My Own Apples. For slightly more than it costs to buy trucked-in apples at the local grocery, you can wander around in the orchard and personally select your very own apples right off the tree - along with busloads of visitors out from NYC, New Jersey, and the Bronx who are determined to see the rural sights. You know, get out of town for a few days and breathe the Fresh Country Air (TM). Quick, get a picture of little Jimmy breathing the country air! Jimmy, you better SMILE when you pick that apple!

So there I was in this cute little apple orchard. Apple trees in a production orchard, far from the spreading, climbable things that my non-rural self had simplistically imagined, much more resemble shrubs. I had the feeling of walking among the Hampton standard privet hedges, except with fruit and not quite as tall or as manicured. They are planted in rows with a fairly broad space between, but the branches of each tree touches its neighbors.

I was surprised by the number of windfall apples piled beneath the trees, and I'm curious as to what happens to those. I'll be sure to ask next time.

Although I shouldn't be, I am continually suprised on my outings on glorious fall afternoons to see that there are astonishingly large crowds everywhere I go. As my formative experiences with the Hamptons occured in the winter months, I suppose that deep down inside I try to believe that this place is some kind of secret from the rest of the world, where nobody ever goes. Time to face facts... people know about this place. It's a tourist attraction, for cryin' out loud!

But this brings me to my apple-picking bretheren, on this fine Sunday afternoon. Seeing so many families there to enjoy the corn maze and pick fresh produce was, overall, a nice experience. As a big fan of healthy and local foods, I find it encouraging to see kids lining up to pick apples instead of, say, Twinkees. And I think it's great for city folk to get involved enough in their own food to actually go to the place where it's produced. So far, so good, right?

The part that bothered me was the frantic pace of these people as they "Do" the Hamptons Farm Thing. One particularly upsetting moment was listening to a child a few rows over who was shrieking, over and over, "I'm going apple picking!" Should be a heartwarming moment where you stop and reflect on this child's newfound connection with the earth and its bounty, right? Until you listen more closely to the shrill, almost panicked tone to this kid's voice. He sounded just as overstressed and overstimulated as his parents... and I realized that to some here, this exercise in "getting back to nature" was just that - an exercise, a photo for the scrapbook, a cheaper weekend getaway than Disneyworld.

So I walked to the deserted far ends of the rows of trees. I strolled along and watched the flies and spiders and bees and appreciated them (in the outdoors where they belong) for doing their jobs. I inhaled the winey smell of the windfall apples beneath my feet and browsed the fresh, perfect fruit still on the trees. I marveled at the size and weight of the fruit of these tiny little trees. I learned how to twist an apple so it will come off the branch easily in my hand and I felt very good about playing some small part in the harvest.

Shrieking kids or not, I'll be back. Next, I might even go pick my own pumpkin.