Today, Amy and I began the day by doing something I never imagined five years ago I'd be doing — marching into our own back yard and picking apples from our own apple trees.
We picked about eight plastic grocery bags full of good apples, plus another six or seven bags of apples that were rotten or soon-to-be rotten. Our neighbor Hilda even came over to join the fun. She grew up on a farm, so was seasoned in the skills of harvesting. We were somewhat embarrassed, though, when she used those skills — or maybe just her eyes and brain — to inform us that a second tree which we'd come to think of as a particularly bad pear tree was, in fact, another apple tree. (In our defense, we had been told the tree bore pears).
Amy even used a few of our apples to make some homemade applesauce the other day. I am not exaggerating a bit when I say hers was better than the brand-name applesauces we routinely purchase at the grocery store. Yum!
