A bumper crop of apples, ready to pick sooner than I ever remember them being.
I stood under the tree watching flashes of red and green drop around me, chanting “Watch out, watch out” as my girls darted between them, shrieking with joy, grabbing at the fruit as they bounced earthside. We filled mixing bowls and boxes, inhaling the honeyed scent of autumn in the middle of an August heat wave, all of us excited about the prospect of applesauce and apple pie and fresh plain apples so crisp and juicy and sweet. So perfect.
Many years ago this particular tree, planted back when the house and the farm was new, fell over in a storm. It’s roots were inspected and judg…..