Friday Favorite. #8

I’m not sure what it is about being a parent that creates in us the desire to impart our own happy memories on our children, but today’s Friday Favorite may be an inclination to do just that.

This orchard has a special place in my memories. My Mom and my sisters and I used to drive out to South Glastonbury in the fall, often with my one or two of my Mom’s sisters and a few of my cousins added in there somewhere, too. We’d stock up on loads of apples, a few bags of pears, and plenty of cider. The vehicles would be laden down with fruit, we’d laugh and talk the whole way home, and then have plenty of applesauce awaiting our attention when we got home. It was a lot of fun while it lasted. We haven’t made the trek as a crew of girls in a number of years, but each fall, I still enjoy heading out to Belltown Hill Orchards with our 3 children. The drive out there is beautiful, punctuated by rolling hills covered in maple-hued splendor, following winding roads past multiple orchards and grandiose historic homes. Each time I go, I realize anew that it’s so easy to take a home state for granted, and I concede that Connecticut really is something special.

On Columbus Day, the kids and I headed that way just the four of us, since Paul was working. We liked it so well and made it sound so great, that one day when I was feeling rather sore and weak and tired (read: slightly crabby), Paul decided it was time to head to Belltown. It was just what I needed. Smart man, I tell you. Smart man.

For all my love of gardening and picking fruit, I’ve never been apple picking before, so that was on our to-do list for Columbus Day. We found it to be great fun; we even got to enjoy a hayride.

(This one from Belltown’s little store is for my 4 sisters, all knitters extraordinaire-)

Mmmm… Hot mulled cider.

I like this guy.

I’m not usually a fan of donuts. But these donuts? I like. Yes, I do.

(Ok, I do not like this photo of me. But I want my kids to know that their mother was there, too. )

I like Connecticut. A lot.