Growing up near Atlanta, I have been visiting Panorama Orchards in Ellijay, Georgia, at least once every fall since I was a boy, except for a brief hiatus when I moved out of state.
There’s nothing that glamorous about Panorama, though.
In fact, part of its appeal to me is that it is rather plain, and hasn’t changed much in over 40 years of visits. The reason I go every year can be polarizing for people I’ve taken with me: It’s all about the fried apple pies, folks.
In my mind and heart, the fall season does not — indeed, cannot — begin until I have had those pies. The rural drive through the North Georgia mountains is also part of this annual ritual. I purposefully take the longer way, completely avoiding I-75 and sticking to the winding back roads. Almost as soon as I start to make the pilgrimage, I feel my soul decompressing.
My wife and kids are in on the action too. I recently had a business trip where I could have stopped by to get an extra dose of pies, but my children protested, claiming I was not allowed to go without them.