The historic town of Fruita (settled in the 1880's) was gobbled up when Capitol Reef
was made a national park in 1972.
Today a one room schoolhouse, farmhouse, barn, outbuildings and a cabin are all that remain of the town. Settlers had planted fruit orchards and now the approximately 2,500 trees are under the care of the Park Service. The park orchards boast 341 different kinds of fruit trees and some nut trees. Most of the orchards are fenced and are only open at harvest time. The fruit is U-Pick and all is priced at $1.00/pound. A beautiful grassy campground is in the middle of a few of the orchards and the park service allows campers to pick and eat fruit while they are camping. One orchard in our campground was full of Red Delicious apple trees but they were still hard and green. Surprisingly, many campers were filling sacks full of them. There are herds and herds of mule deer roaming the campgrounds and orchards, eating the windfall and the grass under the trees. They were surprisingly unafraid of visitors. Even the wild turkeys seemed to take the 2 legged intruders in stride. I was a bit alarmed at how many of the campers were picking up apples from the ground considering the deer roaming on the grass. I'm guessing that they have not heard of E-Coli. On a lighter note.....Ginger Gold apples, a cousin to Golden Delicious, were ripe and ready to harvest in the Jackson orchard.
We picked and purchased 18 lbs. and after eating a lot of apples out of hand, I made something delicious with the rest.
I knit, garden, bake, and sew. I create something every day, even if it's just a mess in my kitchen.
“I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp. I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children. I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.” ― Marjorie Pay Hinckley