As a Texas girl, the closest I ever got to an orchard growing up was the fruit section of the grocery store. So, when my Boston friend, Kaylyn, suggested we go apple picking while I was in town, I jumped at the chance. And almost immediately I  began conjuring visions of climbing ladders high into the tippy tops of trees, plucking beautiful, round, juicy apples and laughing deliriously giddy in the crisp New England afternoon. It would be fall perfection. Heading out of the city, we took the country roads to Ipswich, Mass and Russell Orchards.

Unfortunately, when we arrived, we discovered that the season for apple picking had ended early this year, but with one whiff of fresh donuts and apple cider wafting out to us from the nearby barn, we quickly dried our tears and followed the crowd into apple heaven.

And just because we couldn’t pick the apples, didn’t mean we couldn’t visit the fields. A hayride around the orchards by our trusty driver and new friend, Bill, was just as sweet a time, providing a snapshot New England countryside in its brazen fall glory.