Last weekend, Michael and I paid a long overdue visit to Elkhart. Thanks to Emily's insistence that we re-live her childhood, we found ourselves traversing the back roads of Indiana in search of an old apple orchard. And then, gold:
Or so we thought. The late frosts this spring and lack of rain this summer have left parts of Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan shy on apples. Jacqueline was comforted by the gourds we found for sale, but Michael was inconsolable.
After we knocked on the door of the old house, however, and J reacquainted herself with the Eberlys, we were told to scavenge for whatever we could find:
In the midst of our frolicking, Don met us with a WWI-era shotgun (and his dog, I think from the same era). In jest, of course--or so he claimed. Walking through the orchard, we heard stories of elephants, crooked politicians, and hardy hibiscus.
The stories continued into the barn, where Don supplemented our meager fruit supply and sent us home with wishes for a delicious evening.
Jacqueline's pie did not disappoint.