Offices and Orchards (A New Adult Sweet Romance)

Chapter 19

Since they were not going to be working outdoors today, Autumn dressed up in the country clothes that she had packed just for the occasion. It was not cold enough just yet to demand a coat, but a sweater and a scarf were not out of place. She thusly wiggled into dark blue jeans and a maroon sweater. A white scarf tied around her neck completed the look. She had a matching white umbrella as well. Not her usual summer dresses, or her cotton shorts and tanks, but she felt cozy and comfortable in them nonetheless.
Strangely, Harvey emerged from his room in a maroon sweater and dark blue jeans, matching her quite closely, except for the stubble on his chin.
"You've got some dirt on your chin by the way, I thought you'd wash it off after breakfast, but I'm glad you didn't, it looks good."
"I don't think they appreciate the scruff too much at S and W. Especially not if I want to retain my position as office heartthrob," he laughed. Autumn shook her head, rolling her eyes. He'd won that title earlier in the week when two women in a row, from different floors, had apparently asked him out in a period of a few days. They had been surprised to learn he was barely out of first year college.
"Everyone is intrigued with why you aren't seeing someone, I overheard someone talking about it. You're a man in demand,"
"Well that's all you've heard, then that's fine", a look of worry disappeared from his face as fast as it had come.
"What do you mean?"
"Oh nothing,  I just meant," he trailed off. "Nothing really. So you're not jealous are you?"
"Nah. not really the jealous type,"
Autumn had sat in her cubicle both amused and confused when she heard the office chatter, but did not dare say anything because she and Harvey still had not decided what they were and still were not ready to talk about it to anyone.
Until Friday, not even Amber had had any real idea of what was happening, as Autumn had told her that she had been with her Grandpa before, which was not untrue since she had visited him on the Sunday and then seen him before when they went to the cemetery. She just omitted to tell Amber who she had been with and how long she had stayed. Amber herself was so busy with Brandon that she had not had any reason to believe otherwise.
""So that stuff really doesn't bother you?"
"More made me just think about things..."
"Yes, I've been thinking too. It's been a really fun few weekends with you."
"I agree."
"So do think you might wanna keep doing stuff together?"
"I think so."
"Then, would you come to Thanksgiving with my family?"
"Are you serious? That's like two months away,"
"Canadian Thanksgiving isn't,"
"Canadian Thanksgiving?"
"It's in two weeks,"
"So you mean, we'd go to Canada?"
"No, sorry: My grandmother on my mother's side is Canadian, and she's not alive anymore, but we've always just done two Thanksgivings: one at our family place in Vermont for Canadian thanksgiving –it's not too far from here actually. I wasn't sure if should ask you, because I know how you like to plan things far in advance..."
"There you are in my head again, knowing that I like to plan my travels in advance..."
"I'm getting good at this aren't I?"
"You really are! And I'd love to go to your family's Canadian thanksgiving with you,"

Autumn was thinking about what it would be like to meet Harvey's parents, which was a little intimidating. She bit her lip, her leg bouncing up and down in front of her. Harvey shot a glance at her leg. "Tap, tap, tap,"
"Wow I really do tap my foot when I'm thinking, don't I?" he nodded, "What do they usually wear at your house for Canadian Thanksgiving?"
"It's a dress nice kind of day." Autumn groaned, "That's what I figured. Good thing there's enough time to go shopping. As you know – you've seen me at work- I don't really own nice. I've got plenty of casual and maybe even the odd fun, but nothing for a dress nice kind of day. "I'll go shopping with you," Autumn glanced over at him. He chuckled, "I'm serious, I'll go with you."
"Ok, here's the thing. So far, you took the lead on the first weekend, you planned our date last weekend, this weekend you hosted me here at the farmhouse and now you're planning the next two?"
"So?"
"Well, I'd like to plan something for you," she pulled out her phone to look at the calendar, "When is Canadian Thanksgiving exactly?"
"It's the second Monday of October, so this year I think it's the 8th,"
"Ok, so we go to Canadian Thanksgiving that weekend, and then the weekend after that, I get to plan a date,"
"Sounds good."
"All booked up then,"
"And next weekend?"
"I'm spending some time with Amber."
"So I won't get to see you next weekend?"
"You might if you're lucky,"
"I'm here with you, aren't I? Proof that I'm lucky," Autumn blushed. "So what about the shopping?"
"Amber and I can take care of that I think. It's one of her many special talents,"
"Oh,"
"You're disappointed?"
"No, no, I just had a place in mind,"
"If we don't find anything, then I'll let you know,"
"Deal."
It rained as they drove down the road to the factory and the commercial section of McIntosh's Orchards. There was a huge barn which contained some of the industrial equipment, known as The Shed, and a few smaller older barns, one of which Harvey referred to as The Bunkhouse, and another The Shipping Shed. A few vehicles were also parked nearby, trucks, tractors and some ATVs with trailers.
Harvey pointed to one of the old buildings, "That one there used to be called the evaporator, because we used to use it to dry the apples before storage, but it's been maybe twenty-five years or so since it was renovated to house any of the seasonal picking crew that want to stay there during harvest," They remained in the car while Harvey continued to explain a little about the commercial part of the orchard as the rain drizzled down.
"It's pretty basic, but it's quite charming. The kitchen becomes a kind of social area in the evenings, and we put in an old piano when we found out one of our returnee pickers loved to play. There are a few private rooms upstairs, a tv room, along with a library of books and movies and board games which the pickers share amongst each other. Some of them are over sixty years old, it's a real treasure trove. The third floor has sleeping rooms for those who do not want to spend their nights in a tent, although a lot of our pickers do until it starts to get colder. Most of our pickers will be in the bunkhouse today, not because it's Sunday, but because of the rain. It's actually quite a conflicting day for pickers, emotionally. On one hand, a rainy day is a break, a reprieve from the long hours of a six day work week, but as the season goes on, the pickers usually have plans in place for where they will be headed after harvest, and a rainy day means one more day to wait until the harvest is over and they can leave. Since we're pretty early in the season, most will probably be pretty happy about the rain. But, it's not really a day off, and most of the crew will be sorting apples, or pressing cider. On a real day off, most stick around here and watch movies, nap, read books, do some baking maybe. I was thinking we could go into the shed to see what's going on? Maybe check out the cider room." Autumn nodded.
Autumn grabbed her white umbrella and they walked past a tractor on their way into the larger barn. The barn was full of machinery, a real industrial space. There was a large bin near the entrance, presumably full of apples and several other smaller bins nearby. Various conveyor belts ran around the shed, the largest of which, covered full of apples, went over to an area that was obviously for packing. A number of staff were sorting through apples and packing them into wooden crates. Autumn noticed the McIntosh's stamp on their sides. It was hard to know what everything was for.
He got her some ear plugs to put on, "Can you wait here a minute? I'm just going to do a quick round of the shed. It shouldn't be too busy given that it's a rainy Sunday,"
Autumn stood near the entrance, a little awkwardly, smiling at anyone she made eye contact with as she waited for Harvey to return. There were a few people working in and amongst the machinery and conveyor belts. He circled over to the packing area to say hello. Most of the people working seemed to know who he was, and he was introduced to those that did not. He spent a few minutes chatting with the crew, who seemed happy to see him.
He grabbed Autumn's hand when he returned. "Good news! They brought up some special cider from the shipping shed today. Made from Honey Crisp. You wanna try some? Might make the process easier to understand," he was very excited. "Let's go to the cider room,"
The cider room was attached at the side of the rest of the shed. Upon a cement floor sat a few pieces of machinery, which did not look as complicated as those in the main shed area. There was a small table on the side that was already set up with a bottle and two plastic drinking cups.
"The real reason I brought you in here..." Harvey pulled Autumn into him and gave her a light kiss. "No, who am I kidding? Of course I want to show you our cider press. Most cider is quite dark in color, 'cause of the red peels, but Honey Crisp has a much lighter skin, so the cider looks almost like a white wine. I haven't tried this batch yet." He popped open the bottle and poured some into the cups, taking a sniff and then a sip. He seemed to like it. "Not as full-bodied as I have had, but it's almost a little champagne-y," Autumn took a sip herself and smiled in agreement "Just without the bubbles. You can drink this stuff hot right?" he nodded.
"Would be nice on a day like today. With a bowl of popcorn and a good book on the couch," she added. All of a sudden, Harvey gave her a big hug. It was so clear to him that Autumn understood his passion, quite unlike anyone he had tried to share it with before, even his friends, and that was very exciting. That being said, he had brought friends up to stay at the farmhouse before, and even a girlfriend, but none of them had ever been interested in the apple picking, None of them had really cared to see the commercial orchard's operations, they had just enjoyed a country retreat for a few days. In fact, Harvey had shared more with her about his life at the orchard than he had with anyone before. He could tell that Autumn not only understood his passion, but she shared it to some degree. I guess that's what happens when two lovers of all things Fall get together, he thought to himself as he sipped his Honey Crisp cider. Oh wait! She loves summer. Could have fooled me.
He topped up both of their cups and grabbed her hand, holding onto it the whole time he spoke.
"Alright, so the apples are first dumped from a bin onto the conveyor belt, where rotten or bird-pecked apples are sorted out by hand. From the conveyor belt, the apples go through a washer which takes off any grime, such as the remnants of the rotten apples, or any dirt that's on the outside. Then they go over here, into the hopper where they go on the second conveyor belt and into the grinder. Once ground, it's called slury, and the slury is taken up here through the hose, by a vacuum pump, over there, to the pressing table. Slury goes into each layer of the pressing table which is wrapped in porous cloth, and separated by plastic. As more slury is put in, the cider begins to drip out the sides from the weight of the ones above it. After about twenty layers, it gets too tall and the slury is then rolled onto a hydraulic press and slowly squeezed. The cider drips into troughs and then is pumped into a tank outside, and that's it! Nothing added to it, all natural. You remember I showed you my patch of resurrected orchard the other week? Well, I'm hoping that I can try my luck at a batch or two in a few years."
"And I'm guessing the hoses are for clean-up?"
"Exactly, everything is washable with hoses," Harvey indicated to the rolled up tubes hanging on the wall, "It gets really messy."
"I'll see if Chris can come over and run the machines if you like?"
"No, that's fine, they all seem to be pretty busy. So what's the difference between cider and apple juice?"
"I'm so glad you asked,"
"I'm actually really curious,"
"So apple juice is basically filtered cider. It undergoes a process to remove particles of pulp or sediment. Apple juice is also pasteurized so that it does not need the same kind of refrigeration. And it's often vacuum packed into whatever container."
"I have a confession to make Harvey,"
"What is it?" he looked concerned all of a sudden.
"I hate apple juice," mock-horror spread over Harvey's face. "Well, it's a good thing we don't make apple juice here then isn't it," he pulled her in for another apple-filled kiss.
They decided to skip out on learning about the packing process, and instead wandered through the orchard in the rain, huddled in each other's arms under Autumn's umbrella. They walked mostly in silence, the rain dropping on the apple tree leaves, and the squish of the muddy ground under their boots the only sounds they took notice of. Reflecting on the magical weekend that they had spent together, both of them had felt they were closer and more comfortable with the other than only 48 hours prior, and yet, they knew that in less than 24 hours, they would be back to reality, under the neon overhead lighting of their offices, in front of their computer screens and inside the walls of their cubicles. It was such a contrast to what they had been doing on the weekends. When they reached the end of one row of trees and stopped to admire a panoramic view over the countryside, they were both reluctant to turn around and go back to Harvey's car, as this meant the start to the end of their fall fairytale.
"Do we really have to go back?" Autumn asked rhetorically, "We can't just continue walking forever in the orchards?"
"Actually we probably could. There's plenty to eat and drink," Autumn pouted.
"You know what else I just remembered? I'm seeing Amber next weekend, so I won't even be able to come up here with you,"
"You know what though Autumn?"
"What?"
"It'll still be here, waiting for you." Autumn and Harvey both knew he was not talking about the orchard.

'For many people cider is a sweet, fresh-pressed juice that can be found at any orchard in the autumn months. Historically however, the term cider referred to hard cider, which was the only kind of cider for centuries until refrigeration and more recently pasteurization allowed cider to be kept fresh for weeks or even months. Today's fresh cider is pressed from the very same apples that we are used to eating, ones like McIntosh, Cortland and Honeycrisp. Hard cider on the other hand can be made from a wide variety of apples, many of them seedlings.
Cider apples are rarely consumed fresh, many of them are lovingly referred to as "spitters," due to the high concentration of tannins and generally unsavory texture that makes them unpalatable. Historically hard cider was made from almost any apple in the orchard and early cider orchards were often planted from seeds and did not require the grower to have mastered the art of grafting. At Adam's Apple Orchards there is a far corner block of apples with names like Somerset Redstreak and Chisel Jersey. This is the cider block where they cultivate a handful of different apples that have traditionally been used for making hard cider. Last week we took a few afternoons to pick some of these apples. It was a nice change of pace from the usual picking. One does not have to be nearly as gentle with the cider apples being as they are going straight to the cider press. Unlike other apples cider apple drops can also be collected since the fermentation and alcohol will kill any unwanted bacteria and they can still be pressed.
First we picked up the drops under the trees with five gallon buckets, the apples making a fun 'ker-plunk' as we dropped them in. The drops went into a separate bin from the ones that came from the trees, but all will find their way to the press at some point. What cider apples lack in taste they make up for in appearance: they have beautiful colors and a single variety can range from green to yellow orange and red depending upon their ripeness. They are also varied in their texture, some are very firm while others feel almost spongy. Picking cider apples feels much more relaxed than picking where one is getting paid per bushel. The crew moves together through the trees, stripping the apples from the branches. There is usually conversation and banter and sometimes even a bit of singing when the tractor is not around.
We will revisit the block a few more times this season as different varieties come to be ripe. When it is all said and done and the apples meet the press, I hope to get my hands on some of the juice and even try my luck at a batch or two.'
Autumn understood: She felt similarly about the beach. Even though she was from New England herself, being lakeside in Vermont instead of seaside in Maine presented a completely different life from the one to which she was familiar.
Back where she was from, rocky shores lined deep navy blue seas. As the days shortened, the autumnal colors were not as prominent at the seaside, but once October hit, hearty meals typical of the area tasted even better in the cooler salt-tinged sea breezes, especially one of Maine's stand-out foods, the lobster roll. Reading the blog made her reminisce about chowing down on freshly baked buns filled with the fresh-picked meat of a one-pound lobster, perhaps even one she caught herself while out on her family's lobster boat. The fall did used to be her favorite time of year, once.