Apple Picking?

People in New England do all sorts of things that people in other geographical areas may not be aware of. They draw out the vowels when they speak. They label adjacent and often intersecting streets with the same name. The most baffling I have encountered yet is “Apple Picking”. Full disclosure, I have never been apple picking, or even invited. What the hell is this “Apple Picking”? I can tell you apparently it is quite the activity which will take up most of the weekend and requires months of planning. The name suggests apples and picking. I have gathered from descriptions that you roam the marvelous apple orchards and select your fruit, namely apples. You must pay for the apples you have labored for. From the apple farmers perspective this is genius. Bamboozling city folk to drive into the boondocks, clamor around harvesting the crop, and then PAYING you for it, this deserves a Tom Sawyer award!
Now some of you liberal fat cats would argue the aesthetic and organic beauty of the scenery and process. Fine. But call it a drive in the country, or escaping the city. Picking some fruit alone does not justify a full day, or day’s time. And what do you do with the trunk load of apples some guy tricked you into picking? You make pies, and bread, and cookies, and cider. Then you force it onto your friends and neighbors and poor homeless people. I know one guy that gets some apple product every day! Poor fella has developed such a complex that the sight of a bowl of applesauce makes him hop like a kangaroo. Other parts of the country have apple picking too. And there is a certain group of people that revel in the activity. We call them immigrants. You know how I pick my apples? Out of a bin at Stop and Shop.