Late this morning, we drove fifteen minutes to mom's cousin's farm,
Sixty cents/lb. for apples or grapes.
(half price if you picked them up off the ground or if they had bad spots)
Three 5-gallon buckets of apples!
The Kipps encourage LOTS of tasting.
"Sample everything, so you'll be happy with what you've picked" they said.
So we did and we came to a tree that had massive apples.
Only, we really didn't understand exactly how massive they really were!
Completely enthralled at what an awesome time we were having,
we eventually made it around to the garage with buckets of apples and kids in tow.
Cousin B asked who wanted to guess how much this monster apple weighed.
I guessed 10 oz., K guessed a pound, Mom guessed 12 oz. I think.
Well, that sucker weighed in at 1.05 pounds!
K was closest, so she got it for free.
It was the size of a grapefruit,
I kid you not!
We came home and I got straight to work.
We were engulfed in a sea of apples.
At the smell of apples cooking, C and I both recalled fond memories.
His Grandma has apple trees in her front yard and it brought to mind
the smell of her kitchen when he was a boy,
apples always cooking on the stove.
For me, it was making apple butter in the fall as a youth sports fundraiser.
I recollect staying at the Young Farmers' Grounds all night.
When we became dog-tired, we'd lay in a lawn chair and snooze for a bit,
while the parents continued on, stirring long into the night and early morning hours.
When it was almost morning,
I remember going to Laurie M.'s house where she made from-scratch cinnamon rolls and
I marveled at how she worked the dough and carefully sprinkled cinnamon and sugar,
then gently rolled it up and cut it.
Afterwards, she made the icing and we headed back to feed everyone.
We had a family-style breakfast that was beyond words.
So, now as my table lay heavy-laden with jars upon jars of applesauce,
I can't help but feel my heart swell.
Sweet love in a jar.
That's what food is to me.
From the heart,
made with love.
when my children are grown
they'll catch a trace of something that sends them back in time
to a place they'll never forget and
they'll smile as they recall that memory to their children.
So, as I hang my apron up for the night,
my heart is full,
my table is abundant
and it has surely been a blessed day.