I have awesome memories of fall from when I was growing up. September meant apple picking. We would go to an orchard not far from St. Louis and pick the most delicious apples I'd ever had. My mom would make homemade apple sauce and pies. There is nothing like an apple right off the tree. It's unpolished and unprocessed and virtually untouched.
So, in an effort to recreate those memories I decided we should go apple picking. We couldn't get around to going until October. This meant apples on the trees were few and far between (and no one wants one off the ground except the bees) and the crowds were there for pumpkins (which we're also behind on but we're going to pick those next weekend with my Grandmother). So, we scrounged for apples and got a few, only to finally get through the line of pumpkin pickers to find that the computer was broken and they couldn't take plastic. Enter us, who almost always carry only plastic.
So fine, our apples that we picked stayed at the orchard but the lovely little store there had bags and bags (or bushels and bushels if you prefer) and we scooped those up to bring home for fall treats.