Come out to Apple Hill and enjoy the beautiful Fall weather!
Apples are, of course, our first and primary concern at Apple Hill Orchards. The first apples to be harvested in the new season are the Lodi and Yellow Transparent—arguably the best for sauce. As we move through the summer into fall, each variety ripens with its own attributes. The season culminates in late October or early November with the harvest of Pink Lady, a crisp, tangy apple that keeps well. We hope you try them all.
We also grow tart cherries, seven varieties of peaches, pears, plums, and Asian pears. Every year the availability of each fruit varies, so please refer to our website or telephone before coming out for a particular fruit.
Plantng the trees that would march and train
On, in his name to the great Pacific
Like Birnam Wood to Dunsinane,
Johnny Appleseed swept on.
Vachel Lindsay, from In Praise of Johnny Appleseed
Apples make cider, and we are one of the few orchards that still produces fresh, unpasteurized cider on location. We wait until we have some of the sweeter apples of late August to begin pressing. Each press is a little different as we move through the season, but it is all delicious.
Adam was but human—this explains it all. He
did not want the apple for the apple’s sake, he wanted
it only because it was forbidden.
Mark Twain, from Pudd’nhead Wilson
From apples and cider come, our famous Apple Hill Apple Donuts, delicious homemade applesauce, apple-walnut bread, Apple Hill Slice, and much more. Cider pops for hot days and caramel apples are both popular treats.
Also offered in the store is fresh-popped popcorn, apple butter, jams and jellies, honey, maple syrup, candies, gift items, and much more.
We hope to see you soon.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eave-drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from Frost at Midnight