Apple picking is hokey, corny, and a sad excuse for city people to play farmer. We drive way out to the country to go to a “farm” and then pay to pick apples, which half of them will rot in our homes as we try to figure out what to do with 10 lbs. of apples.
I have a fraught relationship with apple picking, but after nine years of it, I have come to love this part of our Fall tradition.
The first time I went a’pickin’ was when the kid was a baby, and the “farm” was this almost amusement-park-of-a-place why out in the sticks of New Jersey. It took like thirty minutes to get into the place, the parking was so bad. The line for tickets was long, and then when you got in the joint, all the trees had been picked over. (There were pony rides!) And leaving the place took an hour. It was like leaving a rock concert, but with way more produce. I felt silly being there, like I was being conned.
The next time I went was when my parents came to visit New York, and were staying upstate, as they were traveling in a motorhome. My wonderful wife found an orchard not too far from where my folks were staying. That was a way more enjoyable experience. It wasn’t crowded, lots of apples, a large orchard to wander around, and most importantly, the kid had a good time. With the exception of the Covid Years, we have gone back to the apple farm year after year.
And as each year goes by, I start looking forward to it, more and more. It has become our tradition, and an activity that we can yardstick our year, and also gage how much the kid has grown and changed. It’s also the gateway into Autumn for us, as the drive takes us out of the City and into the woods of small town upstate. The changing leaves, and Halloween decorations sprinkled about every corner. Maybe it wasn’t as cool as it was last year, and the leaves were more yellow than any other color… but Fall had arrived for our family.
We live in a very small apartment in New York City, as do most people around here. I’m not complaining, as there is space for everyone to work, relax, and have some “alone time” in their respective rooms. We are very good and packing things away, and not letting space go unused. Our apartment is full, but in no way feels cluttered. Part of the reason for that is that we do have a storage space. But half of that unit is full of books.
About once or twice a week, we start talking about buying a place Upstate. Not sure if we will ever really do it, or afford it, but in these conversations we dream of owning a weekend/vacation place. Maybe we rent it out for extra money, maybe we keep it all to ourselves. What we do know is that we can’t leave NYC for the foreseeable future, so we can’t buy a home too far away.
Lately, I’ve had this crazy idea, which is that we buy some land, and have a small house built on the property – like a small two bedroom/one bath. Something very modest, quaint, and a basement would be cool, but it would be a house that is as far and away from a McMansion. (My brother’s house is so big; our apartment could fit in his livingroom. Not kidding on that.) I would be fine with a two-story, but all said and done under 1,000 square feet. Hell, it could be less that 800. The point here would be that with a decent piece of land, we could also add small out dwellings; like a studio for me, and an office for the wife. A guest house even. Maybe something for the kid. Who knows; I’m spending money I don’t have?
I guess what I am describing here is wanting to build a complex; a compound. But one that doesn’t involve a cult. In one sense, I want to keep living in a small dwelling. But in another sense, I want to have several small dwellings so we can all go and disperse to them from time to time.
(The short story “Upstate” by Emma Cline appeared in the October 30th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)
(Yes, my dear, there will be SPOILERS.)
Illustration by Dennis Eriksson
“If God didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent him,” was the first quote that came to my mind when I read this story. Maybe “Upstate” by Emma Cline doesn’t exactly share the same sentiment as the aforementioned quote from Voltaire, but the short story swims in the themes of sin, punishment, and atonement. The other quote that came to my mind was, “These pretzels are making me thirsty!”
Yeah, just let me explain…
“Upstate” is a story about a couple, Kate and Paul, getting away for the weekend (Sunday to Monday) in a small town/country rental house. The piece is told from Kate’s perspective, but the first character introduced is Djuna, the owner of the rental property, and her slew of rules for renting the house. Though Kate found the place, Paul is paying for it, and this is the first example of how Paul takes care of Kate. As the story tells us, Paul is a much older man to Kate’s youth, and they had participated in a hidden affair for some time. But now that Paul is divorced, their relationship is living in the open. As the weekend unfolds, we are privy to Kate’s thoughts on the state of her relationship with Paul, which clearly she has started to question by wondering if they are truly being open and honest with each other. An accident happens, which leaves Kate and Paul’s relationship in a different iteration.
I appreciate that Cline takes on the idea of morality without ever having to say God, though Djuna is God adjacent for this story. Djuna owns the rental house, and her rules are made explicit, though Paul and Kate ignore them from the moment they arrive by looking in a closet they are told not to open. (In fact, apples are eaten at one point.) Their next transgression is a stain they leave on the livingroom carpet after the couple has sex. Kate attempts to remove the stain, but in the end, it never fully goes away. Kate starts taking on a fear of Djuan, a fear of being caught, or even accused of breaking the house rules. Such as when Paul has his accident in the house, Kate demurs when Djuan calls demanding to know why the lights were left on, and the doors were open – Kate takes Djuan’s verbal punishment. The feeling is that outside of this rental house, Kate and Paul had lived punishment free in the sin of their affair. But in this house, there is a power that comes down on them, which manifests in Kate’s fear. That I found very interesting.
Yet, there was formulaic aspect to this story that I couldn’t shake, and that stopped me from being invested in this story. Cline’s prose is efficient and very spartan; truly reducing down to the barest elements. At its most basic, this is a story about a couple going on vacation, and realizing that they aren’t right for each other, or at least questioning if they are right for each other. This is territory that has been trodden many times before, which made me desire for the story to get to the next part. And though there was a sly bit of foreshadowing, I found myself waiting for the relationship changing climax to arrive.
And when it did arrive, that’s why I thought of the other quote, “These pretzels are making me thirsty!”
For those of you that aren’t dedicated Seinfeld fans, the quote comes from the episode “The Alternate Side.” (I will admit that the quote has nothing to do with the story, but is possibly the most famous part of the episode.) Anyway, Elaine’s subplot in the storyline is that she is dating an older man, who at first she finds very interesting, but soon wants to break up with him. Before she can do that, he has a stoke, rendering him incapacitated, leaving Elaine as his caregiver.
Maybe not 100% the same, but it is similar enough for me to equate the two. Seinfeld was supposed to be about “nothing” and “no lessons” – a selfish place without a moral compass. “Upstate” was about a world that needs morality, and if it is absent, people in that world will create it. Like I said, it’s an interesting idea, that happens to be transported in a clichéd car.
I have been distracted this morning. I did get my errands and chores done, but when it came time to do this, write a blog, I let myself get sucked down the old rabbit hole of looking at houses for sale. Not that we are in a position to go buy a home, but hopefully in the next two years, it might become a possibility.
You never can tell. We, as a small family, are right on that cusp of entering the world of home ownership. I do feel bad for anyone under the age of thirty because unless you are earning a huge salary, which most people don’t, then you will never live in a house that you own. We still can, but just barely. It is my job to get the family finances in order, so when the opportunity arises, we can jump on it.
Anyway, all of this came about today because it’s already 75 degrees in the City, and should make it up to 80 today. The windows are open in the apartment with a nice cross breeze blowing in. The wife is working away in the office. Music is playing, and the kid is in her room enjoying not doing a damn thing on her Spring Break. With all of this going on around me, I had the thought that, “Wouldn’t it be great to do this in a house, surrounded by trees, upstate?”
“Yes,” I said, “It would be great.”
“Then go look for a home.”
“Yeah, that would be fun, but we aren’t in…”
“I SAID LOOK FOR A HOME!!!”
And off to Zillow I went. Besides, who needs self-discipline?
For an hour I looked at places that are all about two hours away from the City. I enjoyed the daydream. A place for books, and reading. A fireplace to use in the winter, and a back yard for the kid to play in. All the wonders, relaxation, and serenity, cleanly away from the City. A home that gives me a chance to wake up with the sounds of birds chirping and the wind blowing through the trees.
This “window shopping” took up most of my writing time, but I don’t feel bad about it. Perhaps I have lost the desire to have a goal. Like a goal that isn’t just for me, but something that I can provide for my family. Ambition bounces around in my brain like a dirty word that I cannot muster out loud; but a goal? Perhaps I should say out loud that I want my family to move into a house in two years? Maybe I have forgotten what it is to strive on the high wire where one can fall to failure? Maybe.
