Michigan has a fairly short growing season, what with the snow and the ice and the freezing rain a-coming, so you have to get in when the picking is good.
I was googling "farmer's markets" and "apple orchards" and found a few places in the area that sounded fun. I made some calls, I put things together, and it was set.
The Lady, Kari, and my two nieces and I headed to Makielski Berry Farm in Ypsilanti, Michigan. Ypsi is the next city over from Ann Arbor, and the drive took less than ten minutes. You'd be amazed how quickly this area can go from city to rural. Well, in ten minutes. You might also be amazed at how loud a three-year-old and a nine-month-old can be in the car.
Oh my God, the screaming. It's a wonder I didn't hit a fucking tree.
I was driving the Lady's van, and oh. Do I hate driving the van. The brakes are less sensitive than my car and I had to constantly remind myself that there were little babies in the back (oh wait, NO I DIDN'T. The constant screaming.) so that I wouldn't take a turn on two wheels.
The whole process was a blast. We tied little milk jugs around our waists and strolled out into the fields.
I had a pretty good haul:
Then we drove to the blackberry fields, and that's where the thorns reminded me, time and time again, that one should not swear in front of a three-year-old.
Heather: "Oooh, look at this bunch of blackbe - SON OF A BITCH THAT HURT."
Lady: "Son of a gun, you mean?"
Heather: "NO, that's NOT what I meant. That hurt like a motherfucker!"
Lady: Sternly, "Heather."
Kari: muffled laughter
Alexis: "Son of a beetch!"
Lady: "Goddammit all to hell."
I had packed lunch, so we headed to Hudson Mills Metropark and set up camp for a few hours. I chased Alexis around for a while and then gave up.
I can't wait for fall so that we can hit up the apple orchards!