In September, I begin to think about apples. At Manos Meadows, we had two apple trees. One was a dwarf Jonathan apple tree in the yard. Apples from this tree made delicious pies. Sometimes, I’d pick them before they got completely ripe, wash and core them, slice them, and put them and an adequate amount of sugar between two pie crusts and bake. They baked up nicely without cooking them first.
The other apple tree was in the pasture. It was larger and had good apples. Only thing was, many of them grew near the top of the tree. I’d climb up in that tree to pick the apples from the top limbs. The limbs, by the way, were twisted and gnarled. I had visions of my hair catching on some of those limbs and getting trapped in the tree, but that didn’t happen.
A side note to the dwarf apple tree. Our dog, Beauty, liked those apples too. They grew close enough to the ground that she could reach them. She’d bite into one, pull it from the tree, and eat part of it. She never ate the whole thing and never very many. She was welcome to her apples.
The weather is turning cooler. In fact, come Wednesday, it’s forecast to be downright chilly. It truly is a time for apple picking and a time for memories.
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