PHOENIX FAVORITE FINDS | Norway Hill Orchards in Hancock, NH
APPLE PICKING AND AUTUMN DRIVES THROUGH NEW HAMPSHIRE, SNAPPING PHOTOS OF THE FALL FOLIAGE LIKE THE TOURISTS WE KIND OF ARE
Tonight, I feel like reminiscing about a good day while the three of us were back in New Hampshire in October (after Canada but before we began our southwest path), and its accompanying beautiful memories.
The foliage in the Monadnock Region of New Hampshire this year was truly magical (I'm going to share photos of how the leaves changed while we were home in an upcoming post, hoping that I was able to capture a fraction of the magic to share).
And one fall day, we decided to go apple picking. The New Englanders among us (okay, that's just my parents and me) were craving the typical fall favorite treats: a mile-high apple pie, my mom's specialty (no airplane sex nuance intended, so get your dirty heads out of the gutter) and apple crisp. It's just ridiculous not to indulge in the fall in New England because these apples fall in our backyards, even if it means eating sweet apple treats for ten days straight.
This particular day was a gorgeous fall postcard. We enjoyed so many such dazzling days, where the most vibrant bluebird blue skies were punctuated by puffy white Simpson's clouds over leaves on trees exploding in a literal blaze of glorious red, orange and yellow fireworks. Around here, there is a lake after a stream, after a river, after a lake, after another lake... resulting in stunning foliage water reflections that made for insane photos.
The family-owned apple orchard, Norway Hill Orchard in Hancock, is only one town over, so we all piled into our truck — My Dad and My Love in the front, and my mom, daughter and I squeezed into the back — and decided to take the long way. My Love pulled up the GPS and blew up the map's view in between the two points. Then he just drove randomly. He'd notice a small road coming up, and take it. Which would lead to another road that wound around to another, until eventually we ended up at the orchard. My parents were shocked at how many little hidden alcoves of beauty surround their home.
"Stop! Wait! Photo!" I would shout along the way, and My Love would pull over so I could capture a few snaps of leaves, or gravestones, or lakes, and we'd carry on. My parents laughed every time this happened.
No one was in a hurry that day nor had any agenda. We were just soaking up the simple blessings in life, of which there were many. My favorite being that the apples we picked went from the tree to the pie in my belly in a matter of hours. It doesn't get any fresher, or better, than that.