This past weekend was absolutely perfect for apple picking. Blue skies, crisp air, golden sunlight that makes everything look ten times more pretty than it really is. So we decided to try our luck at Les Fermes de Gally – a lovely little spot about 20 miles outside of Paris that has orchards, veggie patches, flower gardens and more, all ripe for the picking.
The day had so much potential be idyllic: In theory we could just feed the baby, hop in the car, and be roaming the verdant French fields in less than 30 minutes. But in reality, we had to pull the car out of the garage 10 blocks away, get gas, spend 15 minutes trying to figure out the CD changer, and spend another 15 minutes trying to figure out the navigation system, only to realize that our destination wasn’t listed. Then we had to turn around, go back home, get google map directions, and start over. With a screaming bébé who was sick and tired of her car seat by that point.
Oh, and then there was the awesome traffic on the peripherique (the Paris beltway).
A good hour and a half later, we finally made it to the farm. Thankfully there was still sunlight. And plenty of wheelbarrows left for me to push around:
I have to say, I turn into a total nerd at places like this. I’m a free-loving hippy farm girl at heart I guess- and I love that beautiful farmland is just a stone’s throw from the big city here. I picked a few kilos of apples, then a few boxes of strawberries, then a handful of raspberries before Bébé started crying and Husband had to wave me back from the depths of the raspberry bushes.
We made a quick pit stop and once ma petite was fed, I went back out in search of green peppers, but came back with these instead:
I really wanted to keep going, but Husband refused to let me root around in the dirt for potatoes and carrots. So we bought some pre-harvested taters and a bottle of cider. And this delicious bounty only cost around 25 euros- très economique!
I could go back there every weekend to wander the fields. It makes me dream about having my own big old farm somewhere, or at least a big flower garden. But for now I’ll have to settle for a couple more months of Paris pavement. And start plotting a way to get Husband to go on a little farm vacation in the south of France before we leave…