I love apples, but in July I'm not thinking apple orchards and cider. However, if you grow apples for a living, I bet you 'thinking apples' every single day. The farm up in Lisbon was an apple farm with hundreds of acres of trees. I've visited quite a few times but can't remember when wagons like this one rolled through the orchard stacked high with wooden bushel crates. Growing up, when the bushel crate of apples got low in the darkened closet off the dining room, we'd all pile in the station wagon on a Sunday afternoon and head to Terison's Orchards in Cumberland and spend the afternoon climbing the trees and picking apples. I always favored the Golden Delicious. The bushel baskets we brought home were always filled to the brim with Macs, but Mom always made sure there was a peck bag of the goldens. Just for me.