When what was meant to be a morning picking apples became trespassing on private property and scouring for walnuts || Somehow last weekend we missed the memo that the apples in all three orchards we attempted to visit were “sold out” for the season: each farm stand boarded up with handwritten regrets taped to the planks and row after row of empty little trees and not a soul in sight. I took “sold out” more like “all dried up.” With record heat and no rainfall for months upon months upon months, the barrenness quickly all made sense.
Fortunate for us, my company and I happened upon the most beautifully lit walnut grove in someone’s front yard. Albeit a big yard, which we held in our favor. Parking down the way and slipping through the slats of their fence we stayed toward the far end and enjoyed the place all to ourselves.