You wouldn’t think russet apples are my least favourite, would you? As a child, I hated the sharpness of the flavour, but these days tartness has grown on me. Have you ever tried a russet apple? They’re so sharp, they’re almost sour. I don’t know if it’s a Surrey thing, but Russet apples seem to be the most abundant round these parts.
Apple-picking represents a completely wholesome activity, far better suited to a fresh-faced princess-y blog than a girl who spends most of her time writing songs about alcoholism and letting her snake sleep in her hair. But… I do really love gathering food each Autumn. I’ve visited this farm since I was a child. My earliest memories aged 8 are of how revolutionary it was to pick your own food; the food was cheaper, healthier and eliminated the middleman. Dad often jokes that even as a child I was compelled towards social justice and green living.
I don’t want to make this post into a vegan rant, but isn’t it weird how happy we are to embrace bloggers in pumpkin patches but not in abbatoirs? How much of your food manufacturing process would you take a selfie with? Recently I’ve started to fully appreciate the lengths society goes to in order to ignore its own guilt. It’s hard for this not to be amplified by the news; there’s so much atrocity happening in the world that many feel the need to function purely in “escapism” mode the whole time. And I get it; the world is dark and scary these days.
I’m trying to be mindful of the news and the world around me, whilst also carving out pockets of time I can tune out and exist in a different way, on a slower frequency. This blog post: case in point. Light and happy photos that are all surface and image, thoughts from the inner, critical part of my brain. It’s so important to get a balance. After the sun sets on a picturesque orchard and you’re at home with your crops, all you’re left with is the sharp taste in your mouth.