Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Apple of my eye
I was born on an apple orchard. Well maybe not actually on the orchard, but I spent the first two years of my life there at least.
After dad died mom remarried and moved away, but all through childhood we kept going back to the orchard. Of course my church had an apple festival there every year, which always took us out there many many times.
Many of my best memories revolve around those experiences -- collecting apples for applesauce, which my mom made and canned to have all year long; make pies for a pie contest, and competing with my dad in those contests; cider, unpasteurized, which you can't find anywhere anymore.
So, when the beautiful wife suggested six years ago that we should go to the orchard in her hometown and create a family tradition, I certainly didn't argue.
It's only fitting that my daughters should have the same pleasant memories and feelings about apples and picking them.
Hopefully they will always remember playing hide and seek in the trees and having papaw lift them up to grab that apple above his head. And we will never forget Big sister chasing the apple down the hill.
This year's time was a little warmer than normal and the trees were bare, but memories were still made. I can't wait until next year.