stone's throw

We like traditions in our family. We are a traditiony bunch, us Meekers. Traditions help you tick off the years of your life more accurately. They help you remember the good times. And the bad.

Every fall, we go to Oak Glen for apples. Oak Glen is the only place a person should get apples. It's pure magic.

Every year we go to the same farm, Stone's Throw, owned and run by Jim and Pat who are now in their early nineties. Yes, I said nineties. And still married. I think I would go every year even if they didn't grow apples, just to see two people who are still in love after an impossible amount of time.

Jim wears flannel shirts and suspenders. Pat wears her hair in a bun. They walk amongst their customers, calling most by their first names. They carry old carving knifes and offer samples of each of the varieties they grow. They tell the story behind each variety. Berkley Rome, Pippin, Arkansas Black, Jonagold, Pink Lady, Braeburn, Fuji, Red Delicious, Big Green. The list goes on and on.

Each sample is scrutinized. Much discussion ensues. Which apples will make the best for baking. Which are the most crisp? What to buy? What to buy?

My children tend to like the tarter varieties.

This year was extra special because it was Birdie's first. We were having an amazing afternoon enjoying the Fall weather and apple samples until Thom went missing.

We found him waiting in the backseat of the car, pouting because he wasn't allowed to eat an entire apple before lunch. It was one of those mom moments when you want to beat your child senseless and smother them with hugs and kisses all at the same time.

Ah memories.

Someday, when Thom is grown, I will say to him "Remember the year we couldn't find you at Oak Glen? I think you were six and we all nearly went out of our minds calling for you. I thought you had fallen in a shaft or been eaten by a bear. You better take me out to lunch next Thursday to make up for that."