In this world there are extremely boring and dull activities. Things like sodding your front lawn, draining the gutters, vacuuming the rug, etc.
And then there is apple picking.
It astonishes me that apple picking is not only a thing, but something that people actually do often. I get the whole “getting into the autumnal spirit” vibe. That’s cool. But, you know, buy a scarecrow or something. Wear a plaid shirt.
And it’s not like apple picking is something that you could actually just walk across the street and do. People actually travel for hours to the countryside to seek out orchards that contain apples.
Apple picking is something I think about so seldom that I am shocked I even knew what an orchard is for. I don’t think I’ve ever had to use that word in my life. Except that I do have a friend that lives on Orchard Street.
On Saturday and Sunday afternoons, I log onto Facebook and see that people have posted statuses, basically at the crack of dawn, about how they are going apple picking. Is it supposed to inflict emotion upon me? Am I supposed to become jealous? Am I suppose to be happy for you? I don’t get it.
If somebody actually approached me and asked me if I would like to join them for apple picking, I can’t even imagine how I would respond. I guess I’d probably start laughing. Because the mere fact that somebody actually thought that I would enjoy the act of apple picking is highly amusing to me.
People, do you not realize that you could go to your local supermarket and purchase apples? And it’s not like they have a selection of two apples, and you have to take whichever ones are there. They have a lot. Dozens. Bushels. That’s the word, right? Again, I am shocked that I knew that.
So yeah, there’s bushels of apples, so those that like to pick their apples out of a large bunch will still get their picking fix. It’s quicker, it’s more practical, you save gas money, and you still end up with an apple.
Alright, I’m not that ignorant that I don’t understand why some people enjoy heading out to a meadowy glen and picking out their apples in a giant field, while the breeze ruffles their hair and the morning sunshine casts a murky shadow over the thickets. I suppose there is some quaint art to whole process. Perhaps people feel like it takes them back to simpler times to be able to purchase their own naturally grown apples straight out of the tree. It’s like visiting Amish country.
I get that. I see how that might make people happy. But you still couldn’t pay me to do it.
At least with those other activities I listed earlier, like draining the gutters or vacuuming the rug, you are accomplishing something. You are making your living establishment cleaner and more inhabitable, and thus improving your quality of life. Apple picking does no such thing. To me, it just seems like a giant waste of time.
I love how people even post pictures of their apple picking experience. Unbelievably, no two apple picking photos have ever been different. There are apples, there’s grass, and there are idiots sporting a doofy smile over their face and probably exaggerating the entire experience by wearing a stupid straw hat that they would never where anywhere else.
Maybe if apples picked directly out of tree were capable of giving you special powers, then I might understand the appeal. Like if it gave you x-ray vision, or two heads, or something.
But no, all apple picking accomplishes is giving you the knowledge that the apple you are eating was picked directly by you from an orchard, instead of from your local Wal-Mart.
So worth it.