The week of the apple.
We now have 85 of the following varieties:
Pink Lady, Ambrosia, Golden Delicious, Beni Shogun, Braeburn, Honeycrisp, Fuji, Detroit Red, Crimson Crisp, Empire, Gala, Gold Rush, Jonathan, Smokehouse, York, Cameo, and Arkansas Black.
And dreams of pie...
My dear darling city mouse husband does this for me. He knows that the start of Autumn requires at least one drive to the mountains, windows down, bluegrass blaring, trunk empty and ready for the obligatory pumpkins, apples, honey, and jam. He knows he married the girl that finds joy in the chase of a chicken, dares involving cows or bubbling streams, being barefoot, and making friends with the people at the fruit/live turkey stand. And I think he also enjoys it until we inevitably get lost (because I demand we take the no phone service scenic route home), wind up hungry on the side of the road (already so sick of apples on Wits End Way), bent over a Rand McNalley, yelling at one another to turn down the music which lost it's charm a million cornfields back.
This year I came prepared. I brought along a picnic and a cheap bottle of Prosecco. The sun was setting, we lost all bars on our phones, our stomachs began rumbling, and we drove miles unsure if we were going north or south. Or east or west. It was all going according to plan. And before Terry could put the kibosh on ma mountain music, we found a scenic overlook with some park benches at the very moment the sky was ablaze. We dug into our soggy sandwiches, popped our cork, drank straight from the bottle, all the while watching the girls' silhouettes play in front of the setting sun.
And we have big plans for pie.
2 comments:
so beautiful. I feel like was there with you, country mouse.
xo
Is it too soon to say "I love you"? I love you.
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