We had the good fortune of sharing our neighbor's abundant apple harvest this year. One cool morning - a crisp morning just smacking of autumnal colors and temperature - we loaded up our buckets and headed across the road.
I'm not sure who had the grandest time. Ruby was my workhorse, picking apple after apple and filling up our buckets one after another. August found eating the apples was the best job - or maybe it was digging in that soft, black dirt that a gopher or mole left behind. Either suited him perfectly. I just had a glorious morning remembering all the apples we used to pick with my grandma, mother and aunts down in a remote pasture we referred to as Lester's. And thinking back to the jars and freezer containers we used to fill with applesauce and pie filling at Grandma Bonnie's kitchen table.
I hope my children will have such happy apple memories.
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